Who'd Believe It Anyway?
by CyberShockwave
Summary: The rebirth of Tom Riddle, the death of Cedric Diggory... is it any wonder that Harry Potter is behaving a little differently than what his friends and classmates expect? But is this sudden shift merely the result of traumatic experiences, or is something much darker afoot? Who should Harry trust? Who can he turn to? With all that's happened in his life, who'd believe it anyway?
1. Greener Pastures

**CHAPTER 1**

**~GREENER PASTURES~**

The grey clouds that covered London and the light rain that came down upon its streets as uncle Vernon drove towards number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging seemed to be a reflection of Harry's inner self at the moment. He kept his lethargic stare fixed on the outside world as it slowly passed by, the London traffic not helped by the weather.

His uncle, thinking Harry might enjoy some background noise from the car radio, purposefully kept it off; the only sound in the car coming from the pitter-patter of the rain, other vehicles driving by, and the occasional yell or honk of an irate driver whose mood was no doubt helped along by the miserable weather. Harry wasn't sure if his uncle wasn't speaking to him simply because he hated doing so, or because he had noticed his solemn mood, but was glad that uncle Vernon was ignoring him so diligently.

Harry normally tried to get some sleep on these trips home from King's Cross, but remained awake for the same reason he'd refused to sleep for the past couple of days since coming back from the graveyard in Little Hangleton. The dreams he slipped into for the brief moments he lost his vigilance against his tiredness were so vivid that he'd almost convinced himself they were visions and not some product of his own mind. Professor Trelawney would be proud indeed, both of his new-found ability and the disturbing images he always gleaned from it.

Harry glanced enviously over at his snowy owl, Hedwig, who didn't seem to be having any issues falling asleep or staying that way, if her tucked head was any indication. After a moment, however, his scowl of jealousy morphed into the closest thing to a smile his face had managed in a week, perhaps even longer. Harry couldn't stay mad at the one entity that remained with him through thick and thin since coming into the magical world.

Ron and Hermione were great. In fact, Harry could unequivocally call them the best friends he'd ever had. But this year highlighted the fact that they were virtually the only friends he had. Neville, a boy Harry hadn't thought very much of in the past had proved to him how help could come from unexpected places when he'd come through with a solution for the second task the night before it had taken place. What could Harry have done if Neville had been as close a friend to him as Ron and Hermione were?

Harry suddenly felt uneasy. Thinking of his friends in terms of how useful they were to him… was that something he'd thought of, or was it the influence of the newly reincarnated Voldemort?

He hadn't said anything to any of his professors or the headmaster, their sombre attitudes and pitying looks had made Harry wary of approaching them with more possible issues, but ever since his encounter with Voldemort, Harry had felt that his mind wasn't completely his own anymore. When he was the most tired, when his eyelids felt heavier than the foundations of Hogwarts, Harry heard whispers. Nothing coherent enough to understand, but they were insistent and constant, following him until he suddenly awoke from one of his nightmarish visions.

Harry shook himself, realizing he'd been slowly drifting off towards sleep again. Hedwig seemed to be alert enough to open her eyes at Harry's sudden spasm, even uncle Vernon noticed the movement enough to glance in his rear view mirror at Harry with critical, squinted eyes.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" his uncle asked, his long moustache shaking with each word spoken like the overgrown tail of some woodland creature. "Pick up the mange at that freak school?"

"No," Harry said moodily, taking to staring back out the car's back-seat window.

"What did you say, boy?!" his uncle demanded, perceiving Harry's current attitude as a slight against him.

Putting up with his aunt, uncle and their whale of a son was a full time job for Harry. Literally. He cooked for them, cleaned for them, did their laundry, made sure their garden was the envy of Privet Drive. And all he'd been given for his efforts had been a cupboard under their stairs. He now resided in what until a few years prior had been a storage room for Dudley, but was still expected to 'pull his weight' and do everything he'd been doing since he'd been dropped off on their doorstep like a delivery from the milkman.

Harry wasn't sure if it was again the influence of the recently revived Dark Lord or his own personal grievance with his uncle, but suddenly found himself speaking regardless.

"Drop me off here."

There was a long stretch of silence in the car as the rain outside continued to ping off the car's exterior. Traffic had long ago gotten so bad that there hadn't been any movement for the last few minutes, and the clouds outside were only getting thicker, darkening the sky so much that street lights were beginning to flicker on despite it only being a few hours past noon.

"What?"

Uncle Vernon was so lost in what Harry had just said; he couldn't even manage to make his statement sound like a question. Harry, for his part, was just as surprised as his uncle, but repeated his request, this time with some forcefully tacked on pleasantries.

"Drop me off here, please, uncle Vernon."

Harry wasn't sure if what he was doing would work. But, right now, he was feeling more alive than he'd felt since the third task. In fact, it was beginning to rival his exchange with Voldemort in some ways. His heart was beating erratically, his palms were feeling cold and clammy, and despite his seemingly calm countenance, he was scared that at any moment, his uncle would snap out of his sudden surprised daze and turn around with a sharp smack to remind Harry just how freaky he was.

But none of that happened. Almost as if he were in some surreal dream, uncle Vernon reached down to the boot release of the car and with a dull click, the back of the car opened.

Wordlessly, Harry took off his coat, placed it over Hedwig's cage, and opened his door to get out. The entire process was filled with an atmosphere of suspense for Harry, waiting for the moment where he'd wake up, and be thankful that for once, one of his dreams wasn't about Cedric Diggory's death.

But as he got out of the car and immediately got wet from the rain that was only increasing in intensity, he began to realize this was real and was actually happening. Harry looked back inside the car and saw that his uncle seemed to be incapable of moving, his hand still next to the release for the boot and his head locked forward.

Not wanting to shatter this new reality, Harry simply said, 'Thanks,' shut his door, walked around the back of the car, lugged out his trunk and closed the back of the car.

Traffic still hadn't moved, but Harry felt rightly awkward in the middle of the road with his trunk and covered owl. He quickly made his way to the pavement only having mild trouble with squeezing between the cars with his hands full of his possessions. Still scarcely believing the scenario he found himself in, Harry once again glanced back towards his uncle's car, just barely making out the man sitting in the driver's seat, his head still facing forward rigidly.

Hedwig let out an indignant hoot, starting him out of his momentary stare. The rain was really coming down now and with his coat protecting Hedwig, he was beginning to feel his body cool despite the warm rain. Harry had never really explored London before, his only familiarity with the city being its magical area that he had no idea how to get to.

"The Knight Bus…" Harry reminded himself. However, summoning the triple decked purple bus in the middle of a muggle traffic jam didn't seem a good idea to Harry at the moment. Taking a quick look around, Harry spotted an entrance for the Tube and began to slosh through the puddles forming on the pavement towards the stairs leading under the streets.

Once out of the rain, Harry shook his head to at least get his wet hair to stay out of his eyes.

"Nice scar there, mate," a voice called from further down the stairs, echoing off the walls a little. Harry looked over at a man with a brown bag around a bottle he was holding and wearing a thick jacket and hat that looked like it had been soaked in twelve different fluids, none of which Harry wanted to take a guess at naming.

"Thanks," Harry said back reservedly. "Nice jacket."

Harry wasn't exactly lying; despite the mysterious stains, the man's jacket certainly looked comfortable and was probably the nicest piece of clothing he currently wore. The man looked surprised that Harry had even spoken back for a moment before a wide grin broke across his face, showcasing a surprisingly clean and complete set of teeth. Harry caught the man looking at his own coat covering Hedwig's cage in curiosity.

"Yours's ain't too shabby either," the man said, inclining his bottle towards Hedwig's cage. "What'cha doin' not wearin' it?"

Harry had calmed down a bit since leaving uncle Vernon's car, but suddenly felt the return of adrenalin to his system. He may not have been raised by loving parents, but he was raised by people who very much cared about appearances, and nothing appeared worse than guardians who couldn't take care of their charges. He knew that talking to strangers was generally not a good idea. To talk to a stranger dressed in clothes that had stains of questionable origins and drinking questionable fluids was even less so. To do all that in a Tube entrance on a rainy day…

But Harry wasn't quite himself today. He'd already disregarded Dumbledore's advice and wasn't returning 'home' to the Dursleys. What was ignoring some half-hearted slop from his aunt and uncle about the dangers of strangers?

"I couldn't let this beauty get wet."

Harry showed the man Hedwig who seemed to have known she'd be debuted and had her chest puffed out proudly, even giving a regal sounding hoot as Harry showed her off.

"What a lovely bird," the man said, clearly in awe of Hedwig's little performance. "She your familiar, then?"

"Familiar?" Harry parroted back, somewhat surprised by the man's unsurprised attitude that a 14 year old boy was carrying around an owl in down-town London.

"Well, she's a bit closer than plain ole' pet, yeah? Some folk might disagree, but I'd say that makes 'er a familiar."

"Oh," Harry said smartly, looking down at Hedwig to see her bobbing up and down as if to agree with the man.

"So," the man began, drawing Harry's gaze away from Hedwig and back to his surprisingly full smile. "What's the great Harry Potter doin' down 'ere?"

"I was- wait!" Harry nearly dropped his trunk to grab his wand only to realize his wand was still in said trunk and that he wouldn't be able to get to it nearly as quickly as he needed. "How do you-!"

"Whoa, there!" the jacketed man held up placating hands at seeing Harry panic. "Nothin' to worry about, I don't plan on doin' nuthin."

"So… you plan on doing something, then?" Harry said with a confused scowl, mentally beginning to prepare himself for a fight.

Back in primary school, double negative questions were always the questions he got wrong on tests, even before purposefully sabotaging his grades. He wouldn't be done in by one now.

"Huh?" the man with the bottle said, his eyes squinting as he too became confused by his previous statement. "No, no, I meant that I wouldn't do nuthin' to you or your bird!"

"You just did it again!"

Harry fully dropped his trunk now and pointed a finger at the man causing him to flinch a little as if he expected something to come from it.

"Quit'cha pointin now! Don't need none of that!" the man said with enough fear to actually make Harry feel bad. Slowly, he lowered his hand, and Harry saw the man relax a little before he slowly put his bottle down.

"Look, how about we just do it this way then," the man said as he reached into his coat causing Harry's heart to sky rocket again.

"I do solemnly swear ta not hurt Harry Potter," the man said, pulling a well worn wand from his jacket that was taking on a slight yellow tint before dulling back to normal. Hedwig suddenly gave another indignant hoot after having been quiet during the two's altercation. "Oh, right, and his familiar, too," the man hastily added, his wand once again glowed a quick yellow before once again returning to its normal hue.

"You're a wizard?" Harry was surprised he had met one outside of Hogwarts or Diagon Alley.

"What sort of muggle's you know that give oaths like that?" the man asked with a nervous but still somewhat cheeky, grin.

"Sorry," Harry quickly apologized, the man's roguish smile reminding him of his godfather somewhat, "I'm just a little… tightly wound, right now."

"Ain't nuthin' ta be sorry bout, little bit of caution is healthy, specially round here. Specially fur you."

As if prompted to do so, the two of them looked around their surroundings. This particular Tube entrance was perhaps the seediest Harry had seen; not that he'd seen too many or anything, but if he had to guess where a mugging would likely take place, at least a couple different features present in their current location would make their way into Harry's imaginary crime scene.

"Anyway, you don't strike me as the type ta be visitin' these particular kinds of places, Mr. Potter. You're not plannin' on doin' anythin' that'd get you in trouble, are you?"

Harry felt strange to be called 'Mr. Potter' by someone he'd just met and still didn't know the name of. He was also pretty sure he'd be getting in trouble for whatever he did at this point, but was fairly certain that the man in front of him was making sure he didn't plan on doing more conventional illicit activities that 'normal' disgruntled teenagers might try.

Harry almost let lose an amused grunt at the thought that even _he_ didn't consider _himself_ normal.

"No sir," he shook his head, "I'm actually trying to make my way to Diagon Alley. I was going to call a Knight Bus, but there are too many cars and muggles up top to do it right now. Not to mention the rain," Harry said, pulling at his wet clothes that were beginning to make him shiver a bit.

"Right," the man nodded sagely. "Well, if you're alright wit' it, I can get'cha dried off and to Diagon Alley right fast, if you want?" the man offered, taking a final swig of his bottle before pointing his wand at it and making it disappear to who knew where.

Harry felt conflicted for a moment. Sure, the man had given what looked to be a magical oath not to harm him or his owl, but Harry had learned over the course of the previous year that looks could be very misleading at times. Seeming to catch Harry's conflicted emotions dance across his face, the yet nameless wizard hastily spoke up again.

"Or maybe I'll just point ya toward Diagon Alley? Actually not too far from 'ere…"

Harry was grateful the wizard had caught his discomfort and offered an easy out. He gave the man a lopsided smile as he picked up his trunk once more.

"I'd very much appreciate that."

"Right," and Harry was once again flashed a remarkably white set of teeth. "Well, right now, you's about here," the man explained, waving his wand and creating a map of the local area, the place the man had just indicated pulsing a light blue colour while the rest of the surprisingly detailed three dimensional illusion of local London was a dull orange. Harry was impressed with the magic on display and almost didn't pay attention as the man began to trace out a glowing blue line from where they were to another point.

"Now, if you follow that path 'ere, you'll reach the Leaky right quick," the man finished with a self-satisfied smile and small nod, glancing over at Harry's face as he tried memorizing the rights and lefts he'd have to make. The man had been telling the truth, the Leaky Cauldron seemed to only be a few streets away.

"Thank you, er…"

"You can call me Clyde," the man said, putting out his hand to shake. Harry put his trunk down again and shook the man's hand, not surprised by the rough calluses he felt along the man's fingers.

"Thank you Clyde."

"Ah, but it's been my pleasure. Ain't 'ery day you get to meet and 'elp a Potter. Now, before you'sa get to leaving," the man glanced back towards where Harry had come in from and saw the rain still coming down, "how's bout a parting gift?"

"Oh, I couldn't-" Harry tried but was cut off by Clyde as he swatted the air as if knocking Harry's protests out of his ears.

"Nonsense, won't have any O' it," Clyde said as he pulled his wand out once more, quickly swishing it and conjuring an umbrella. Harry was about to remind the man about his full arms, but before he could open his mouth again, Clyde had waved his wand at the umbrella and it began to float over to Harry's head, hovering right above him. Finally, the man gave one final wave of his wand and made the umbrella disappear.

"There we are, right as rain. Ha!" the man laughed loudly to himself. "Right as rain! And it be rainin'!" Clyde shook his head as he calmed himself down from his own joke. "Ah, you'd best be goin' 'fore I make myself seem any more loony than needed, yeah?"

"Thank you again, Mr. Clyde," Harry said sincerely.

"Oi! That'd be plain olé Clyde, thank ye very much. Mr. Clyde was me father, and I ain't that old yet."

"Er… then thank you, Clyde."

"Ah, I just be pullin' yer leg. You be safe now, Mr. Potter." With that, Clyde spun and disappeared with a loud crack that reverberated in the concrete entrance.

"What a strange man," Harry muttered before he began to ascend the steps back up to the streets outside.

The weather certainly hadn't improved in the time he'd been underground, but, perhaps his mood had. It was a short walk to the Leaky Cauldron, and without the worry of getting wet from the rain, he found he rather enjoyed the stroll. With the weather being as foul as it was, there was hardly anyone to try and share the pavement with and the moisture in the warm air seemed to strangely invigorate him.

When he finally made it to the Leaky Cauldron, he felt the umbrella Clyde had conjured vanish. He wasn't sure how the invisible piece of magic had known to vanish when it did, but summed it up to the whimsical nature of magic he was gradually becoming very familiar with.

"Harry Potter?" Tom the barman asked, sounding very much surprised to have the wizarding world's celebrity walk into his establishment so soon after the end of the school year. Harry quickly made a shushing motion with his hand, not wanting his presence to cause something like what had happened the very first time he had walked into the Leaky Cauldron back before his first year with Hagrid. Tom seemed to catch on quite quickly and returned to cleaning his mugs and wiping the counter nonchalantly, only occasionally sending his eyes flicking towards Harry as he tried to discreetly make his way to the counter. However, doing anything with a jacket covered owl cage and over-sized trunk tended to draw attention, negating some of Harry's efforts at being subtle.

"How can I help you Mr. Pott- er… Sir?"

Tom tried to do his part to keep his new customers identity hidden, but Harry let out a heavy sigh regardless as he surveyed the room, noticing that everyone was looking at him but quickly turned away when his eyes passed over them.

"I think it's too late for that now." There was a beat of silence between the two before Harry decided to get down to business. "I'd like a room."

Tom looked conflicted as he too glanced around the room before speaking to Harry.

"Mr. Potter," the man began in a tone that Harry had heard before and already didn't like, "it would be my pride to have your patronage, but…"

"But?" Harry interrupted a little impatiently, confused and mildly frustrated with what would stop the older man from giving him a room.

"Well… usually, people must be of a certain age to rent out a room, you see. Legal matters and what not," Tom said with an uneasy yet hopeful tone, probably wishing for Harry to pick up on the predicament.

Harry frowned, not at Tom necessarily, but at his general situation. To have successfully left the Dursleys but not find a place to stay seemed like a big slap in the face. As the silence continued between the two, Tom began to look progressively more worried at the boy.

"I see," Harry finally said, picking up on the concerned glances he was getting all around. He knew those looks well from the times he'd been close to and actually had lashed out at his friends the previous year. Were his emotions really so easily read? "I see," he repeated more softly.

"Well then, perhaps a drink?" Harry began anew, looking up at the relieved yet apologetic face of Tom.

"Now that, I can do. What'll it be?"

Harry spent the next few hours just sitting around the Leaky Cauldron and occasionally speaking with Tom. The barman was naturally curious about the Triwizard tournament, and despite the grief and trouble the event had caused him, Harry felt a weight begin to come off his shoulders as he spoke about the more general aspects of the tournament. He certainly didn't feel comfortable telling the relative stranger about the moments of hurt and loss he had endured throughout the year, and Dumbledore had advised him against proclaiming to every witch and wizard he saw about Voldemort's return, but even just talking about the craziness of facing a dragon or the awkwardness of a Yule dance took a load off of Harry's shoulders and the barman was very easy to talk to.

As the hours became later and later, Tom began to send more concerned glances towards Harry. As much as the barman wished he could board the amazing young man Harry Potter proved to be, there was a whole web of legality he had to think of. But despite the litigation of everything looming over his head, Tom began to think of ways he might be able to help out the young Potter.

Tom had never seen the lad come in with any guardian he could think of; sure, the Weasley's had been spotted with him more often than not, but someone would have to be a fool to think the impoverished family had taken on yet another child to support. And of course, who could forget Hagrid coming into his establishment not so many years ago, pulling an eleven year old Harry Potter alongside him. But then, Hagrid could scarcely be trusted with a few sickles, let alone the boy who'd saved magical Britain. Tom suddenly remembered with a start the sorry state Harry had arrived in almost two years ago, when the Minister himself had been at his establishment to receive the young lad.

A thought suddenly struck Tom like a well-aimed bludger. Pulling out his pocket watch, Tom took a glance at the time. Nodding to himself, he told his assistant, a young witch who would be working for him part time this summer, that he'd be back and to keep an eye on Harry Potter.

Harry, for his part, was gazing dejectedly out the Leaky Cauldron's window. His particular view was the overcast dark skies of muggle London. For the second time that day, he thought about how the skies were, again, an accurate reflection of his mood. After making his daring move to escape the Dursleys it looked like he'd have to somehow return to them. What a joyous reunion that would surely be.

Harry was suddenly pulled from his dark thoughts by Tom clearing his throat off to the side. Realizing he'd been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for quite a while, Harry assumed the affable barman was finally kicking him out.

"Thanks for keeping me, at least for a little while. Do you know if the Knight Bus does pick-ups from just outside?" Harry asked as he stood up and began to walk towards the front entrance of the mostly abandoned pub.

"Whatever for?" Tom asked, causing Harry to stop and give the barman a raised eye. "I mean, I'm quite sure the Knight Bus does pick-ups just as it does drop-offs right outside my establishment, as much as I wish it wouldn't with as much of a racket as it makes coming and going… but that's beside the point."

Harry was now giving Tom quite the sceptical look. Had the barman changed his mind about giving him a room?

"No," Tom continued more to himself than Harry with a mild shake of his head before addressing him once more, "if you wouldn't mind, I was hoping you might come with me for a moment, Mr. Potter."

Harry wasn't sure what Tom had in mind, but literally anything sounded better than returning to the Dursleys at this point. Giving a hesitant nod, Harry began to follow after Tom as they made their way to the bricks that separated the Leaky Cauldron from the rest of Diagon Alley.

After Tom had opened the entry way to the darkened alley, he cast a quick water repelling charm for the both of them and they began to walk a little ways, finally stopping in front of a store Harry had passed many times during his excursions for supplies for Hogwarts. However, if he was recalling correctly, he'd never been inside this particular establishment.

The most remarkable thing about the place was a simple blackboard sign that was just outside the door and on the street, charmed to have its chalk written message to change colours and make eye catching movements.

_**NOW HIRING!**_

_**SEASONAL HELP WANTED!**_

_**NO PRIOR EXPERIENCE NEEDED!**_

_**FLEXIBLE HOURS!**_

_**EXCELLENT LEARNING OPPORTUNITY!**_

_**WORK WHERE THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER!**_

Harry raised his eyebrow at the flashy messages that came and went across the board, slowly looking up at Tom who had been watching Harry's reaction. Upon seeing the boys questioning look, Tom decided to key Harry into his thoughts.

"It's not exactly what you might've had in mind," the barman admitted, a small chuckle in his voice, "but I know the manager, and he might be able to work out a solution for your current living accommodations."

If Harry hadn't been confused before, he certainly was now.

"Wait, let me get this straight. I can't get a room because I'm too young."

Tom gave a strong affirmative nod.

"But I can work part-time and board in store as payment?"

Tom gave a somewhat weaker nod, seeming to begin to understand why the young man had been confused.

"Yes, well, sometimes the Ministry is a little selective about which laws it chooses to modernize. Minors renting rooms had been a major problem a few years back, but cheap labour during the summer… well, there was hardly anyone complaining about that."

"Right…" Harry processed.

"Anyway," Tom tried to break Harry from his contemplation, "I do believe Mr. Greengrass is waiting to see us. Let's do our best not to keep him waiting."

"Right," Harry repeated a little more firmly before suddenly seeming to catch up with just what Tom had said. "Wait, what?"

"Well, you said you had wanted a place to board, correct?"

"Well, yes…"

"And since I'm unable to provide the service myself, I took it upon myself to try and find a solution for you. I hope you don't mind…"

Tom wasn't sure what kind of place would make a young man want to spend money to stay at a dingy pub for the entire summer, but wherever it was, he'd help the young Potter stay away from it if that's what he wanted. After all, what self-respecting adult wouldn't do what they could to help a young person, let alone one who had saved the whole of wizarding Britain?

"Well, I mean, I very much appreciate the thought," Harry began, surprised that the barman he'd hardly ever interacted with before had gone out of his way for him, "but, well… I mean, why?"

"Why, what, Mr. Potter?"

"Why help me, I guess?"

Tom was momentarily taken back by Harry's question. Did the boy seriously expect so little?

"Well, Mr. Potter-"

"Harry."

"… Pardon?"

"You can just call me Harry. Hearing 'Mr. Potter' all the time makes me feel… well… just Harry, is fine."

"Well, Harry," Tom began anew, somewhat surprised by the young man's request, "I guess you could say it's in my character to help people." Seeing Harry's questioning eyebrow, he continued.

"I'm a barman, Mr. Pot- Harry. You could say it's a part of my profession to listen to people and their problems. And sometimes, if it's in my power to help them, I'll do just that. Sometimes it's with a strong drink, other times, with a bit of advice, and today, for you it was, well…"

Tom made a gesture to the store they stood outside. Harry raised his eyebrows yet again, but this time in surprise, as he looked at the store front. After a moment, he turned towards the barman again.

"Not that I'm ungrateful," Harry began, failing to keep his surprise out of his voice, "but this seems to be a bit more than a drink or bit of advice."

"Well," Tom said with a kind smile, glad he hadn't misjudged Harry's sense of humbleness, "you could say you're a bit more than the normal customer."

The barman let the statement sink in for the youth before he began again.

"Now, while Mr. Greengrass is usually a genial man, he doesn't like to be kept waiting longer than necessary. Let's head in, shall we?"

Harry gave a silent nod and the two walked into the store.

The outside of the store had been fairly nondescript, its muted colours not doing much to pull attention towards it. The inside of the store, however, had much more to look at.

Shelves lined the walls of the store, upon them glass jars of various substances and items. Harry though he recognized a few from his four years of potions education and quickly determined that the store he was currently in was an ingredients store for the subject he loathed. However before Harry could think too much on that, a booming voice that wasn't quite on Hagrid's level, but still louder than called for, broke him from his thoughts.

"Ah, I had begun to think you'd changed your mind, Tom," an older man with a large belly and well-manicured grey goatee boomed from behind a counter, beginning to eye Harry critically.

"So, is this the one? How old are you, boy?"

Harry returned the man's critical stare, taking in his large frame. He was only a couple inches taller than Harry, probably just under six feet tall himself, but was much stockier, though it wasn't too difficult for anyone to outmatch him in that regard, Harry mused. Guessing the age of witches and wizards was difficult for Harry, but if he had to, he'd guess that Mr. Greengrass was just a tad younger than Tom. Deciding not to give the man any reason to dislike him, Harry promptly answered the question he'd been asked.

"I'll be fifteen before the start of next year's term, sir."

Harry didn't want to say his age outright as he hadn't asked Tom what the age limit had been for 'cheap labour' and _really_ didn't want to return to the Dursleys. Even formal, part time work over the summer would probably be preferable to anything the Dursleys could throw at him.

"Fourteen, then," Mr. Greengrass grinned as Harry paled slightly. "Ha!" the burly man laughed as he clapped Tom's back who was sporting a small smile of his own.

"Only a young lad would try to pull a fast one like that, boy. But I like it!" Mr. Greengrass suddenly got a serious look on his face.

"Are you willing to work hard this summer?"

"Yes sir."

Harry recognized the sudden gravity of the situation. This was the moment that would determine if he'd spend the summer away from a family that loathed him or remained in a world he'd felt more a part of than anything else since entering it four years ago.

Mr. Greengrass' eyes bored into Harry's for a few more tense moments, each unwilling to flinch away from each other. Finally, the man's grin came back along with a growl of a laugh.

"I like him!" Mr. Greengrass declared, turning to Tom and giving the barman another clap on the back. Harry felt a weight come off his shoulders and released the breath he'd been holding.

"Work day starts at eight in the morning and ends when I say it does, got it, boy?" Harry immediately straightened up and gave a sharp nod to Mr. Greengrass.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, Tom's told me you need a place to lay your head. Is that true?"

"Yes sir."

Harry ducked his head, feeling like he was already being a burden on his boss without having even started working.

"Chin up, boy! Where's that defiance I saw a moment ago? Striking it out on your own is something to be proud of! The mark of a real man! Now, you need a bed, right?"

"Yes sir."

This time, Harry said it more firmly, holding his head up despite the bright red embarrassment showing on his face from being lectured by the man.

"That's more like it!" Mr. Greengrass said with a wild grin. At least someone was having fun, Harry thought.

"Hinkey!" Mr. Greengrass called out sternly. For a split second, Harry thought someone had sneezed before a house elf suddenly popped to Mr. Greengrass' side.

"Master called for Hinkey?" the creature dipped their head respectfully to Mr. Greengrass.

"Yes, fetch some linens for Mr…"

Mr. Greengrass scowled to himself for a moment before gazing down to Harry again.

"Excuse my rudeness, but what did you say your name was again, boy?"

Harry was certain he'd never exchanged names with the man before, but decided not to remind him of that fact and instead replied, once again, promptly.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Mr. Greengrass' eyebrow twitched up, but the man quickly returned his attention to his house elf as if Harry's name had been of little consequence. Harry was actually quite happy about that, if he was honest with himself. For once, someone in the wizarding world hadn't reacted to his name as if it were something more than just a name.

"Right then, fetch Mr. Potter some linens for the spare room upstairs. He'll be staying there for the time being, so see to it that his stay is a comfortable one. Now, Mr. Potter, I'll have Hinkey take your trunk up while we have a quick tour of the shop, get you familiar with the layout. Tom," Mr Greengrass smiled and turned to the man, "thanks for finding me a hard worker. I was worried that I'd have to lower my standards again this year, but I can tell you've brought me a good one."

Once the two had exchanged a few hushed words that Harry wisely picked up weren't for him to listen in on, Tom departed with a simple farewell to Harry.

"Well then," Mr. Greengrass came back to Harry after shutting the door behind Tom, "I'm Zacharias Greengrass, owner of this establishment. Tell me, Mr. Potter, do you know what kind of shop I run?"

"A shop for Potion ingredients, sir?" Harry provided, giving his surroundings another once over.

"Ha!" Mr. Greengrass suddenly laughed, startling Harry. "'Potion ingredient's store', he says!" Mr. Greengrass continued to laugh to himself for another moment before getting a hold of himself and shaking his head as the last of his chuckles subsided.

"No, no, but I suppose it's a fair guess for someone who isn't all that invested in the business. This, my boy, is an apothecary."

Harry had heard the term before, back when he'd been with the Dursleys, in fact, and was surprised that anything a muggle knew about was in Diagon Alley. Seeming to pick up on to Harry's confusion, Zacharias Greengrass began to explain.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, are you by any chance muggle raised?" Seeing Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, Mr. Greengrass gave himself a satisfied smile and nod.

"Yes, I thought so, though it's quite interesting… but I digress. You've no doubt had to take medicine, yes? Perhaps even been to Madam Pomfrey before?" Harry kept himself from snorting at the man's question. The Dursleys giving him anything that could improve his welfare was laughable, but Harry was certainly familiar with Madam Pomfrey's particular brand of care.

"She's threatened to give me my own bed, sir," Harry told the man, mindful to keep up his respectful address. He really didn't want to blow this chance. The man smiled genially at Harry.

"Yes, she's a bit fussy with repeat visitors, isn't she? My son, Adrian, he was a beater for Slytherin back in his day. I think he helped that medi-witch perfect her treatment of Quidditch related injuries. Anyway, in the wizarding world, healers of all kinds come to apothecaries to get their medical supplies. Whether it's ingredients for various medical potions, ready-made potions of the very same or any other kind of medical supplies you may think of, an apothecary will probably have it. I pride myself on being the most thoroughly stocked apothecary this side of the English Channel, and now, so do you!" Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but puff his chest a little. Mr. Greengrass certainly knew how to give a motivating speech.

"That's the spirit!" the man shouted happily, clapping Harry's back as he had done with Tom. Harry was jostled by the man's strength and wondered how Tom had taken the hit without so much as blinking.

"My, what are we, a bag of bones?" Mr. Greengrass asked as Harry straightened himself out from the impact. "Let's see if we can't fix that over the summer, eh? A little bit of muscle never hurt anyone and the ladies certainly don't mind either," the man finished with a suggestive eyebrow wag that reminded Harry of Sirius somewhat and had him blushing.

The rest of the evening was a blur to Harry, as he was led around the store and shown what would need to be done tomorrow. It was fairly late by the time Mr. Greengrass had sent Harry off to bed, but Harry wasn't all that upset about the late hour as he climbed into the bed that Hinkey had made. The boisterous man reminded Harry of both Hagrid and his godfather Sirius, oddly enough, and was something he didn't mind in the least.

Where he might have just have started bemoaning the start of the summer holidays had he stayed in uncle Vernon's car, Harry found himself, for the first time, happy about the start of summer.

**AN:** Thanks for sticking around long enough to get to the bottom of all that! I hope you enjoyed my first foray into Harry Potter Fan-Fiction! This is the culmination of a desire to write something I've sorely been wanting to read, the bored mind of someone who's been out to sea for months, and an outstanding Beta I found on Reddit by the name of MoleOfWar who's been instrumental in making this work something I can proudly show the virtual light of day. Feel free to drop a comment and I'll be looking forward to having you all read the next chapter soon!


	2. Leaping Leeches

**CHAPTER 2**

**~LEAPING LEECHES~**

"Good morning, Hedwig," Harry greeted his owl sleepily, as she once again cuffed his wild hair.

He still hadn't found a clock that would work in Diagon Alley, even after two weeks of searching for one in both muggle and magical London. Any battery operated clocks he picked up went wacky as soon as he stepped foot in the alley, and every clock he'd found on Diagon Alley was ridiculously overpriced. Harry knew he had the money to buy one if he really needed to, but felt the need to be pragmatic with his money now that he was beginning to realize how hard it was to actually earn some. Perhaps he should've kept a cut of the Triwizard earnings after all…

Regardless, Hedwig had gladly took up the role of waking him up in the mornings, perhaps feeling more generous this summer now that she wasn't trapped in a cage all the time. And Hedwig wasn't the only one who was feeling free.

He was still having fitful nights of sleep, but since he'd realized he wouldn't be woken up by someone making unreasonable demands of him or be punished for some trivial matter, he had gotten a couple of quality night's sleep that were usually reserved for Hogwarts. Even the dreams with Cedric had cut down in frequency. But the dreams that were replacing them gave him the odd feeling that there was something… watching him. That something just outside his perception was monitoring his every move.

Shaking his head and pulling himself out of bed to begin getting dressed, Harry heard a knock at his door. After ensuring he was decent, he answered it to find Hinkey with a tray of piping hot breakfast.

The first time the house elf had popped into the room Harry had taken up residence in, he had been in little more than his under clothes. After getting hurriedly dressed with the elf refusing to leave all the while through, Harry had asked the unbothered house elf to announce their arrival before bringing him his morning meal, for decency's sake.

"Thank you, Hinkey," Harry said as he took the tray of food over to the small desk in his room.

"Of course, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," the house elf replied calmly.

He'd taken special note of Hinkey's relative calm demeanour when compared to a rather excitable house elf he knew. Perhaps Dobby had been exposed to the Malfoy's maltreatment a tad too long? Shaking off the thought as the house elf popped away, he dug into the delicious breakfast.

It had actually been hard to finish the graciously proportioned meals at first, their large sizes being more than he was used to eating at both Hogwarts and, of course, the Dursleys. But after a few days of the hard work Mr. Greengrass had put him through proved that he needed the larger portions, he had quickly gotten used to finishing his whole meal.

Taking a finishing bite of his toast, he gave a scrap of bacon to Hedwig who happily ate the treat. Cracking the window open for his owl, he stepped out of his room and made his way downstairs to begin the day's work. It wasn't long before the door opened and Zacharias Greengrass walked in.

"Good morning, sir." Harry put down a large cauldron near the front of the store, visible through its windows.

"Morning, Harry," Mr. Greengrass returned casually, making his way towards the front counter.

"Mrs. Glovens stopped by after you had left last night," Harry reported as he made his way towards the back of the store to restock the shelf with blood replenishing potions.

"Did she now?" Mr. Greengrass pulled a book out from a shelf as he listened.

"Yes sir, she said something about a shipment of medicinal leeches?"

"Ah, yes, yes, the leeches. We'll have them in by tomorrow at the latest. Should actually be receiving them today. Be ready to help with those. The shipping company can be a bit… sloppy from time to time and those jars have been known to break. The leeches, they can be quite… virulent, when they've been out of water for extended periods of time, so keep an eye out."

He raised an eyebrow at the man's casual tone, but did little else. After all, some sprightly leeches wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd seen come onto the apothecary's premises in the short time he'd worked there. The two men worked in amicable silence for a few hours, Harry busying himself with re-shelving and restocking merchandise that had been purchased during the previous week and Mr. Greengrass going over his business ledgers.

Both perked up when the shops enchanted door opened and sent a small chime sound through the open room.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Mr. Greengrass greeted friendily. Harry looked around the shelf he'd been working behind and saw two people he'd never have expected to see in a store like the one he found himself working in.

"Good morning to you as well, good sir," the first person said in a chipper voice.

"Yes, quite the good morning indeed," the second person added, his voice no less cheery.

"We were wondering if you might be able to help us," the first one began, all too quickly after the second.

"Quite right. You see, we seem to have a requirement for something your fine establishment may possess," the second red haired character tacked on, causing Mr. Greengrass' head to once again switch over to him.

"Well," Mr. Greengrass jumped in quickly, interrupting their verbal ping-pong before it could continue on with another volley, "I'm sure as long as whatever you two are searching for has medicinal applications, I'll have it in stock."

"Brilliant!", both Weasley twins said in perfect unison.

"So…" Mr. Greengrass said leadingly after a moment. "What exactly are the two of you looking for?"

"Well, that is the question now, isn't it?" George said, turning to look at his twin.

"Indeed, brother of mine," Fred replied, glancing back at his twin.

"We require a reagent that won't… let us say-"

"-violently react with essence of Cortunous-"

"-above around… 350 degrees." Mr. Greengrass looked between the two twins with a very confused scowl, whether it was due to him thinking of such an ingredient or something else entirely was anyone's guess.

"What scale?" The man finally asked after a moment of thought.

"Yes," both twins answered simultaneously.

"… Right," Mr. Greengrass said warily, glancing between the two. "I suppose temperature at that point is quite arbitrary… I don't suppose you could clue me in as to what effects you're hoping to achieve?"

The two twins looked towards each other, seemingly giddy to have found someone who had both managed to keep up with their confusing speech and had an idea what they required.

"Well, while it's still quite early in the development cycle," Fred began, glancing between Mr. Greengrass and his brother.

"Perhaps we might be able to give you an inkling as to what we hope to achieve," George finished.

"Imagine," Fred began grandly, "a poor child has a sudden nose bleed, through no fault of his own, mind."

"Normal attempts to impede such a gush of nasal blood with a simple healing spell are for naught," George continued.

"Even conventional potions are no match for such a visceral fountain of blood," Fred tacked on.

"This… spectacle," Mr. Greengrass said with a slightly amused smirk, "it wouldn't happen to be caused by… oh, I don't know," Mr. Greengrass paused dramatically as if searching long and hard for whatever he'd say next, "ground Wormwood infused with Hagletooth powder, would it?"

The shop was silent as the two twins first looked at each other with slightly awed expressions before then turning to a smugly smirking Mr. Greengrass.

"Well," Mr. Greengrass began again, not seeking any affirming words from the twins, "I'd say to give up on the essence of Cortunous and go with minced Pongle root instead. That, and some sliced Yeaerlig leaves over a… 250 degree cauldron, and you should be able to stem even the most geyser-ific flows of nasal bleeding."

"250, you say?" Fred asked after a pregnant silence.

"What scale?" George quickly followed up.

"Indeed," Mr. Greengrass said with a sly grin that brought a large smile to Harry. It was quite fun when the twins had such expressions on their own faces every now and again.

"Oh, I like him," Fred said excitedly to George.

"Well I liked him first," George replied challengingly.

Mr. Greengrass sent Harry a silent order to begin to gather up the ingredients he'd suggested to the twins as they began to devolve into an argument that sounded like a single person arguing with a closely timed echo. Harry gathered up the Pongle root and Yeaerlig leaves quickly and brought them up to the counter, a grin on his face the entire time. The twin's argument suddenly came to a grinding halt once their eyes rested upon the messy haired boy.

"Harry?" The two asked in unison.

"Hey Fred, George," Harry said with a nod and smile, enjoying the look of befuddlement that the two had probably caused on many people themselves.

"Ah, so they have names," Mr. Greengrass said, as if an important piece of wisdom had been imparted upon him. "I had assumed Weasleys, of course, but it's always nice to have further distinction."

"Well, when it comes to these two," Harry said with a small chuckle in his voice at the twins continued confounded stares, "there's actually not too much to differentiate."

"Why, Harry-kins," George suddenly said in mock outrage and hurt.

"How could you say such a thing," Fred added with his faked indignation.

"We're very unique," George and Fred said in unison, once again.

"Right," Harry replied with a smile and eye roll.

"I take it you know these two?" Mr. Greengrass asked.

"Harry's practically part of the family!" George claimed, Fred nodding in agreement.

"Is he now?" Mr. Greengrass asked curiously, sending a thoughtful look towards Harry. An odd and foreboding something began to clutch at Harry's chest.

"For family, you two seemed awfully surprised to see him working in my apothecary," Mr. Greengrass said in conversational tone.

"Yes, well," Fred began haltingly, his eyes dancing between Harry and Mr. Greengrass.

"We had heard, of course, that Harry took up a summer job," George said, helping out his brother.

"Our elusive friend, however," Fred continued, giving his twin a thankful glance, "failed to mention the genius of a potioneer he was employed by."

"I see," Mr. Greengrass glanced at all three of them, not believing for a second the lie that had been spun, but not calling anyone out on it either.

"Well then, why don't I ring you up? Pongle root and Yeaerlig leaves?"

"Yes, yes, of course, and perhaps a vial of Honey Badger tears if you have them?" Fred inquired. Harry relaxed, feeling like a storm had managed to pass him over without incident.

"Those are quite expensive, are you sure?"

"Oh, we've actually recently come by something of a windfall," George assured the man. "Would you mind, terribly, if we perhaps took your… 'help' out to lunch today? It's just been so… atrociously long since we've spent quality time with him."

Mr. Greengrass gave Harry a look that he understood to mean that it was up to him if he wanted to have a lunch with the twins.

"It might be a good idea to catch up with them," Harry said hesitantly. "If for no other reason than to make sure they're not about to accidentally cause the next plague."

Fred looked like he wanted to interject, but Mr. Greengrass managed to speak before he could.

"Well, I don't see a problem with it," Mr. Greengrass allowed. "I think I'll be okay here for the next hour and a half or so. Just be sure to come back ready for those leeches."

"Capital!" George exclaimed. "Fred, pay the good man for his services and goods, I'll lead ickle Harry-kins here on out."

"Thank you, Mr. Greengrass," Harry said as George put a firm hand on his shoulder and began leading him out the store.

"My, Harry, bulked up a bit, have we?" George said as he gave Harry's shoulder another squeeze before releasing his hold once they were outside the shop.

"Mr. Greengrass feeds me well and the work is fulfilling," Harry supplied. "Since when do you and Fred take any interest in potion brewing?" Harry asked back.

"Since an anonymous benefactor gifted us a large sum of Galleons," Fred answered, coming out of the shop. "Good to see you're still alive, Harry."

"Of course I'm still alive," Harry shot back. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know," George said, striking a thinking pose before the three of them began to walk down the alley. "Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that no one in the Order has seen hide or hair of you at your aunt and uncle's place since the beginning of summer."

"The Order?" Harry asked confused as to why anyone would need to check to see if he was with his aunt and uncle.

"Nice going there, George," Fred said as he cuffed his brother over the head with his bag of roots. George, for his part looked sufficiently cowed for whatever he'd done wrong.

"Suffice to say the Order, whoever or whatever they may be, have been searching for you since you failed to show up at your usual summer residence," Fred provided.

"Mum's been a right mess about it," George added, nodding with his brother. "Constantly frets about your safety so much that even Ginny's begun to get sick of hearing about you."

Fred cuffed his brother again, though Harry had no idea why. George, once again, looked like he was repentant for whatever wrong he had committed.

"Well," Harry gave up on figuring out the two twins, "as you can both see, I'm alive and quite well. Better than I've probably ever been, in fact."

"Oh, don't misunderstand," Fred quickly said, "we both completely understand."

"Yeah, who wouldn't want to escape those monsters of muggle's? We support you fully. Dumbledore, on the other hand…"

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling a swell of anger that literally came from nowhere.

"He's quite upset for some reason," Fred supplied before he quickly looked around and leaned in conspiratorially to whisper.

"He's been muttering about wards and… well, sometimes we catch him throwing the word blood in with them."

"Blood wards?" Harry asked before Fred and George quickly placed their hands over his mouth. After the twins sent quick glances around to ensure no one was staring, they slowly removed their hands from his face.

"Perhaps we should find a place to eat?"

"A prime suggestion, George," Fred seconded.

"Harry, grab my arm."

"What? Why?" Harry gave George's outstretched hand sceptical glare.

"George, you know I'm the better one, let me do it."

"No, you've got the bags. I'll get Harry," Fred made to argue again, perhaps about how Harry was much more valuable than some bags of potion ingredients, but was cut off as George shook his arm like a tasty treat for Harry to eat.

"Take my arm, Harry."

"Go ahead," Fred relented, "just be careful. Mum will have a fit if you splinch him."

"Splinch?" Harry asked worriedly, but before he could think any more about what the decidedly unsavoury word meant, George grabbed Harry's arm and he felt himself pulled and pushed through a tube that was much too tight for a human, let alone two. After a split second that was entirely too long, Harry stumbled out of George's grasp and fell to his hands and knees, dry heaving.

"Yeah, sorry about that one, mate," George said patting Harry's back as a pop sounded beside them. "Probably should've let Fred do that one."

"You think?" Fred said, once again cuffing his brother with Pongle roots. "They say not to do it with anyone under 15 for a reason."

"Those roots better not be bruised by the time we get back," George reprimanded his brother as he rubbed his head and Harry finally stood back up, his stomach finally getting back under control.

"They're actually remarkably hardy," Harry supplied, causing both twins to glance over at Harry. "What?" he said to their questioning stares. "You pick up some things when you work with someone like Mr. Greengrass."

"Clearly," Fred said as he straightened his clothes out, doing the same to his brother and Harry.

"Well, now that we're all presentable, let's have some lunch, shall we?"

"I like that idea," George seconded. "Maybe we'll be able to cover half of what we'd like to in the hour and a half your gracious employer gave us." Finally taking a moment to look around, Harry realized where they were.

"Hogsmeade?" Harry asked the twins as they began to make haste down the street.

"It's one of the easier places for us to apparate to," Fred supplied. "High magical concentration and all, just makes it a bit easier to…"

"Slip in, I'd say," George supplied while his brother gave a hearty nod in agreement. "Places with lots of ambient magic, like our house or Hogsmeade, they make the apparition easier." Seeing Harry still looked confused, George continued. "Think of all the magic at those places like it's… some lubrication," George began. Fred suddenly sported a mischievous smile.

"Right-O, brother of mine, lubrication was an excellent choice in words! Sure you could just force it, but that lubrication makes the experience much more-"

"Enough you," George said, finally seizing the opportunity to hit his brother back with a smack to the head, "no need to corrupt our pure hearted Harry."

"What's all this about apparition, now?" Harry asked the two. If he had to guess, it seemed to be yet another way for Harry to get sick trying to travel magically.

"It's a bit like using a portkey without actually using a portkey," George confirmed masterfully.

"Yes, that probably cleared it right up for him, George. Don't mind him, Harry, he barely passed his exam. Splinched the end of his nose clean off."

"It was barely a sliver!"

"All you got to know about apparition are the three D's," Fred continued, sounding like he was some expert on the subject. "Destination, Determination and Deliberation."

"Yes, yes, the pamphlet was very good about getting that into your brain, wasn't it?" George said testily before getting whacked yet again by his root wielding brother.

"Okay, I get it," Harry said, trying to fight down his laughter. "Anyway, where are we heading?"

"Hog's Head, of course!" George said, finishing rubbing the back of his head. "Nothing against the Three Broomsticks, but if secrecy is a sticking point, you're better off with ole' Abe."

"Abe? Who's he?" Harry asked.

"The owner of Hog's Head," George answered. "Not much of a talker, but that'll suit our needs just fine. Plus, each table comes with built in privacy wards!"

"It's something he makes sure people know when they visit," Fred told Harry. "He's a little salty about all the business Rosmerta steals away from him."

"A little?" George chuckled as they came up to dingy looking building near the edge of the magical village. "You could start a salt mine off the man," George said as he opened the door for Harry and Fred.

The first thing Harry noticed about the place was that it was almost empty. Compared to the hustle and bustle he was used to at the Three Broomsticks, Hog's Head was dead. Fred led their procession to a booth that was off in a corner, well away from the front door. After a few moments, a man that looked extremely familiar, but Harry was sure he'd never met before, came to the table to take their orders. Harry gathered that this man was Abe and understood why George had said he wasn't much of a talker, his gruff grunts and silent nods of understand being the only form of communication as the twins ordered some drinks and a platter of sandwiches.

"So, why can't I say blood wards in public?" Harry asked as Abe walked off.

"Well, almost anything with blood in its name is dark," Fred started off. "Or so the Ministry says."

"And since the Ministry is the law, that's that," George nodded. "So, shouting something like 'blood wards' in the middle of a crowded street isn't the best way to draw attention to yourself."

"Not that you seem to have any trouble with that in the first place," Fred said with a sly smile.

"So why is Dumbledore talking about them if they're dark?" Harry asked with a confused scowl.

"Well, that's the tricky thing, isn't it?" George said with a nod.

"You've probably eaten enough chocolate frogs by now to know that Dumbledore, among many other things, discovered twelve different uses for dragon blood, yeah?" Fred asked as Abe brought their drinks. Harry could've sworn the old man grumbled about something, but pushed it out of his head as he nodded yes to the question.

"Well, even that ruffled a few feathers at the Ministry," George said, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. "They eventually put something out about Dumbledore's great contribution to society, but that was mostly to stop the rumbles about what he did as being marked dark."

"Basically," Fred began, seeing Harry's persistent confused scowl, "Dumbledore's a wizard who isn't worried about the Ministry's definition of 'Dark.' I'm sure he's got his own compass when it comes to that. So blood wards, they might be something he's dabbled in."

"What are they even? And why would it matter that Dumbledore's been saying anything about them? I've heard of wards, of course, but what about the blood aspect makes it… well, 'dark'?"

Harry was starting to get an idea as to why the twins had acted as they had. Sure, Dumbledore might be able to get away with muttering about magic involving blood, but an under-aged wizard? Harry again began to feel a strong and strange hate begin to bubble inside him with all the talk about Dumbledore and blood wards before George spoke up.

"We're not too sure ourselves. Like you said, the ward part is pretty self-explanatory…"

"Blood magic in general is a bit of a taboo subject, really," Fred picked up. "Mum and dad sat us down once and told us about what makes normal magic into evil magic, and blood magic might've been thrown in there at some point, but it's just not talked about much. All either George or me really knows it that it's very powerful, but also very costly. Not in gold, mind you, but in other more… abstract ways."

"I see," Harry said after a moment, enjoying a sip of his own beverage. "So then, how do I play a part in all that?"

"Dunno," the two replied together.

"We've just heard your name in close conjunction to 'blood' and 'wards'. Could be nothing, but it could also mean a great deal," Fred answered casually.

Harry mulled over the words before a sudden frown crossed his face.

"What had you meant about me drawing attention to myself?" Harry asked Fred who looked like he was about to choke at the question. George sported a malicious grin as he 'helped' his brother through his cough, smacking his back maybe a little rougher than necessary.

"Well, Fudge doesn't seem to share Dumbledore's or your opinion of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Fred began.

"What?" Harry said, physically recoiling at the news. "But Fudge was there! He saw me come back with-"

He suddenly stopped himself. The past few days working with Mr. Greengrass had been busy, and the work had been just the thing to keep Harry's mind from going back to that night in the graveyard. But now, in the quiet pub with just the twins for company, that night came back with a vengeance.

"We know," George said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We just figured you'd rather hear it from us than some random stranger who's read about it in the Prophet."

After a moment, he collected himself. Getting upset about it right now wouldn't solve anything and the twins believed him, so there wasn't any point in arguing the stupidity of the Minister with them.

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely as he gathered his thoughts. Abe came by with the platter of sandwiches and after everyone had a few bites, Fred spoke up.

"So, how did you end up working at that apothecary, Harry?"

"Well, I was originally going to head home with my muggle relatives," he began moodily, making it clear what he thought of that idea, "but while I was sitting in a traffic jam-"

"A what-jam?" the twins asked simultaneously.

"A traffic jam. It's what it's called when a bunch of muggle cars aren't moving on a road due to something happening further up, sometimes an accident, sometimes the weather, sometimes something else entirely. Point is, we weren't moving and I was still feeling… well, you know, and I just wanted to get away from my uncle to deal with it. So I told him to drop me off right there."

"What, in the middle of London?" George asked surprised. "Are you touched? With You-Know-Who on the prowl, you could've been-"

"That's enough from you, mum," Fred said elbowing his brother. "So you obviously didn't get abducted, which is great," Fred said with a smile that slowly turned a bit more serious, "but despite how grating it is to sound like our mother, you really should be more careful, Harry."

"I know, I know," he ducked his head and focused on his bottle. "I just… I wasn't thinking really. I just wanted to not spend another summer with those… people. Not after what had just happened." There was a silence that lasted a bit too long in Harry's opinion before Fred cleared his throat.

"Right, so you were on your own in London," he picked up.

"Did you go to one of those muggle clubs?" George asked, a smile spreading on his face. "The one's where the women don't wear clothes?"

"Come now, George," Fred replied indignantly, "Harry's not that type of bloke. Besides, he's much too young for those kinds of places."

"Ah, but he managed to trick the Goblet," George shot back. "Some muggle bouncer should be no problem for such a professional."

"No, I didn't go to a gentlemen's club," Harry replied rolling his eyes despite the blush at the thought of visiting such an establishment. "After receiving some help from an odd wizard named Clyde, I made my way to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Clyde?" Fred said.

"Who's he?" George added on, both twins giving him questioning stares.

"Some bloke, I don't know. I met him in a Tube entrance."

"Tube entrance?" the twins asked in unison.

"Well, it's like an underground cave-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"Like a cave? What on earth would the muggle's be doing with one of those?" Fred asked.

"It's not a cave, or… well, I guess it kind of is, but- No. It's a man-made tunnel for trains to travel through. Muggle's use them to get around the city faster than driving."

"Bloody confusing, if you ask me," George said, looking thoroughly lost before he took a swig of his drink.

"Anyway," Harry started again rather forcefully, drawing the two twins back to the story. "After I got to the Leaky, I asked Tom for a room, but he said I was too young. I guess he felt bad for me or something, because after a while, he took me to go see Mr. Greengrass and next thing you know, I'm working his part time job for the summer in return for room and board as well as some pocket change on the side."

"Now that's a tale," Fred said, raising his glass slightly as if toasting.

"My turn," Harry said before the twins could ask another question. "How come Hedwig hasn't been able to get a letter to Ron? Or Hermione, for that matter?"

"Ah," George said, seeming to suddenly remember something. "It's good you brought that up. We had tried sending our own owls to you, but then, you weren't where you usually were, and Pigwidgeon and Errol aren't as smart as Hedwig and couldn't find you it seems. Ron and Hermione are with us right now, back at, um… er, how do we tell him Fred?"

"Tell me?" Harry asked. "Tell me what?"

"Well, where we're at right now, it's a bit… exclusive," Fred replied.

"Am I not good enough?" Harry asked, half joking but also half serious, wondering what was going on.

"Oh, you're better than most, no doubt," George assured Harry.

"It's just, well, huh, this is a pickle now that I think about it," Fred said, scrunching his eyes up in deep though.

"Well, if you don't want to tell me where you guys are-" Harry began, only to be abruptly cut off.

"It's not that," Fred said quickly.

"It's just we literally can't say where we're staying at. It's charmed that way," George elaborated.

"You can do that?" Harry asked, surprised, although something in the back of his head was saying he'd heard of something like this before…

"Well, not us, specifically," Fred said.

"It takes a pretty capable witch or wizard to do it correctly," George nodded before quickly adding, "not that Fed or I aren't capable."

"But of course," Harry said with a light smile. "Well then, how am I supposed to write letters to everyone?" Harry asked.

"We've got your address now," Fred answered. "We'll pass it on and Ron and Hermione will be able to send you post with their owls, which you can use to send the reply. Though, your owl will probably still have trouble finding either Ron or Hermione this summer. Ginny for that matter as well."

Harry saw more than heard George mutter 'nice' to his brother, but ignored that in favour of focusing on what he could have Hedwig do for the summer if she couldn't be used to deliver mail to his two friends. Maybe he could do something about that friendship with Neville?

"Right, well, we've just about kept you long enough," George said, taking a look at a watch he pulled out of his pocket. "Let's get you back before we cause you to fall out of favour with that brilliant man."

"Think you could put in a good word or two about us, Harry?" Fred asked hopefully. "Greengrass wasn't lying when he said those tears would be expensive. Ten Galleons." George winced along with his brother.

"In that case, I'll pick up this tab," Harry said, catching Abe's eye for the bill.

"They grow up so fast," George began to fake cry. "I remember when he was just an ickle little firsty."

Harry rolled his eyes as he gave Abe his payment plus tip and left with the twins. After a return trip to Diagon Alley that was no less enjoyable as the first time, Harry and the twins wished each other farewell and returned to their business.

"Ah, Harry," Zacharias said as he came back into the store. "Good, you're back just in time," the man continued as he pulled out some thick gloves and worn apron. "The leeches came in and it's quite the mess. You'll be needing these. Lucky you've got those seeker reflexes, eh?" Mr. Greengrass finished with a glint in his eyes.

He spent the rest of the day dodging around leaping leeches, comforted only by the fact that the delivery men assured him they were completely sanitary, which wasn't much of a comfort at all.

But despite that, he still managed to have some fun. No one was threatening to take away his meals if he didn't hurry up, he didn't have to worry about being chased around by his whale of a cousin after he was done, and he could take a stroll up and down Diagon Alley after work and buy ice cream if he so wished.

Life was looking on the up for him, and it was all thanks to a somewhat impulsive decision. Today, with the twins visiting, he realized just how much he'd made some people worry, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to be overly concerned about it. He'd done what he wanted, and because of that, he was now happier than he'd ever been at Privet Drive. Everyone who Fred and George had claimed to be concerned about him didn't seem to mind when he was stuck with his relatives, and at the very least, Mrs. Weasley must have had some idea what Harry had been dealing with when he was living with them. Her sons had to break him out of the house for Merlin's sake!

No, Harry thought as he walked upstairs to begin writing a letter to Neville to see how his summer was going. No, he wouldn't feel bad about causing Mrs. Weasley, or even Dumbledore, some worry. Perhaps now that they saw he could do just fine without being around his relatives, they wouldn't make him stay with them.

In fact, Harry wouldn't mind at all if he never had to return there again. Everything that was important to him was already in his trunk, and he'd already replaced all the hand-me-downs from Dudley with some proper clothes from a muggle clothing shop not far from the Leaky Cauldron.

As he penned his final thoughts to Neville and handed the letter to Hedwig, he smiled. It felt good to be in charge of his life, and now that he had a taste of it, he wasn't going back.

**AN**: Thank you all who've left a review! It's heartening to hear that most of you like the direction I've chosen to go. I didn't want to do a rehash of the Order of Phoenix, so I figured what better way to start this Alternate Universe than with Harry's summer? There are still a few more chapters detailing Harry's summer holiday, and plenty more people for him to meet. I look forward to having you all read the next chapter!


	3. Gringotts Appreciates Your Business

**CHAPTER 3**

**~GRINGOTTS APPRECIATES YOUR BUSINESS~**

"Harry, you need to go back."

Harry was glad he'd placed the pallet of wart-removal potions down already; he was sure what he'd just heard from his former Professor would've caused him to drop them otherwise.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Harry hoped beyond hope he'd simply misheard Remus.

"You need to go back to Privet Drive to live with your relatives," the werewolf repeated, looking imploringly at the young man. "Dumbledore says-"

Harry felt his ire spike at the mere mention of the headmaster.

"If Dumbledore wants me to go back to those-"

However, he stopped himself as Mr. Greengrass looked up from where he had been standing behind the counter, no doubt due to Harry's raised voice. He took a deep breath and met Remus Lupin's eyes, their tired grey colour reflecting the man better than most people realized.

"If Dumbledore wants me to go back to those people so badly," Harry continued, his voice lowered in volume but certainly not in intensity, "then he can come here and tell me so himself."

"Harry-"

"No," Harry cut the man off. "I have a lot of respect for you, Professor Lupin-"

"I'm not a Professor any more, Harry," Lupin interjected with a small, but somewhat hurt smile on his face.

"That doesn't matter very much to me," Harry countered. "The point remains; I have a lot of respect for you, for helping me as much as you did when no other adult had stepped up like that before." Remus looked like he was about to speak but Harry cut him off yet again.

"But that respect will disappear very fast if you continue to ask for me to return to that… place."

Harry's former professor looked very conflicted for a few moments before speaking.

"She used to be the only one who could make us stop like that too. Whenever James or Sirius, or even myself at times, got caught up in something overly preposterous or dangerous, only she could snap us out of it."

Harry felt his heart soften just a bit when the professor began speaking about his mother, but steeled his resolve to not give any ground to his professor and maintained his hard stare into his eyes. The former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor blinked and turned away before coming to face Harry again with a softer expression.

"I won't press you any more about it. You seem to at least know what you're doing and keeping yourself out of trouble, which is more than Molly's given you credit for," Remus smiled, his pronounced canines giving his grin a wolfish quality.

"But don't think Dumbledore will just accept you staying here," the man continued warningly. "I've done too little in your life to make any demands of you now, so I won't play Dumbledore's enforcer, not when it comes to you, but you really do need to be careful, Harry. Despite what Fudge would like everyone to think, we both know He's out there and would like nothing less than to see you gone."

Harry nodded his head in sombre understanding which made Remus put on a forced smile and reach a hand out to place on Harry's shoulder.

"Right then," the man straightened up and glanced around the shop, returning to what he'd been doing before spotting Harry. "Would you happen to know where I might find some Monkshood in here?" Harry smiled to himself as he remembered his first potions lesson with Snape.

"Right this way," Harry said as he led his former professor towards some Wolfsbane. Once Mr. Greengrass had handled Mr. Lupin his purchase, he turned an inquiring eye towards Harry.

"I hope we don't make a habit of raising our voices at customers, Harry," he began when Harry refused to say anything.

"I apologize, sir. It won't happen again." Harry was very grateful that Mr. Greengrass had been relatively light with his questions on why he was staying in the room above the store. Once the older man had gotten the impression from him that he didn't want to reveal too much about his circumstances, he had respected his privacy and hadn't asked any more.

"I'm going to take a wild guess here and say you knew him from somewhere," Mr. Greengrass said conversationally. However, Harry had one too many conversations with Dumbledore not to know that this was a disguised interrogation.

"He was the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in my third year… He was a friend of my parents, as well," Harry tacked on, somewhat belatedly.

"Ah, so he was the werewolf Albus hired, eh? His purchases make much more sense now. And you say he was another friend of yours to boot?" Mr. Greengrass said interestedly. "You seem to be bringing in quite a bit of business for me," the man joked lightly. "And all of them quite colorful people, too."

Harry gave a half-hearted smile at the banter, but was still slightly worried that Mr. Greengrass might kick him out should he know the full details of Harry's current situation. After all, what adult wouldn't side with Dumbledore and try to move him back to be with his relatives? Remus had been a special case, much like Sirius would be, but surely, someone like Mr. Greengrass who didn't have any closer relationship to Harry than simply his employer wouldn't be so kind with choosing sides. After a long while, Mr. Greengrass decided to interrupt the silence of the store.

"Harry?"

Harry paused from restocking some iridescent beetles and looked over towards the man.

"I may not know why you need to stay here over the summer, and you certainly don't need to tell me either. However, if you do want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. You're a hard worker and you've already learned everything that you need to do your job well. It would really be inconvenient for me to have to find someone else to work for me, so, if there's anything I can do to make sure you stay here for the rest of the summer, you let me know."

Mr. Greengrass had a serious face, but it wasn't the kind of hard seriousness that scared Harry like Professor Moody, or his imposter at least, had so often displayed. It was the sincere kind, letting him know that the man wasn't joking with his offer.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied giving a small nod. Mr. Greengrass nodded back before speaking.

"Once you finish up restocking those beetles you can take your lunch. Don't worry about hurrying back, it's a bit of a slow day so you can take your time."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said again, grateful not for the first time that his first actual job, seasonal or not, had such a great boss. Once Harry finished stocking the beetles, he left with a promise to Mr. Greengrass to be back soon.

The streets of Diagon Alley were fairly busy this time of day, with people going in and coming out of shops. The first few days he'd stayed in Diagon Alley, Harry had been hesitant to go into the throngs of people, worried they would notice him as the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort when he was just a baby. But Harry found it was actually fairly easy to blend into the crowds. In fact, he got more stares and whispers the fewer people there were, so he made it a point to try and time his excursions with peak busy hours whenever he needed to head out.

As Harry weaved between the people in the street, he made his way up to Gringotts. He'd gotten paid this morning, and while the wages he was making at the apothecary weren't going to recoup his generous start-up donation to the Weasley twins business any time soon, Harry was thankful to be earning anything at all in addition to his room and breakfast meal. He had been keeping his earnings for the last couple of weeks on him, but when Mr. Greengrass had handed Harry his earnings for the week this morning, he felt just a tad bit uncomfortable with the amount of gold he was carrying.

Harry walked into the grand hall of the bank and made his way to an available goblin teller. He waited patiently and took the opportunity to glance around the atrium as the goblin finished his writing in his ledger. Did goblins use house elves, he wondered? There was certainly enough dust and cobwebs for him to think they didn't. Or perhaps the goblins kept it all there to prevent witches and wizards from loitering in the bank longer than strictly necessary. The goblin he'd been waiting on cleared their throat loudly, clearly waiting on Harry now.

"Yes, sorry," Harry apologized quickly. "I've got some money I'd like to deposit."

"Key," the goblin demanded with an outstretched, small hand. Harry patted himself down and withdrew the key he'd pocketed earlier that morning, glad he had the foresight to bring it with him. He briefly wondered what would happen should he show up without his vault key. The goblin ran their hands over the key briefly, eyeing Harry critically as they did, before making a sharp nod. Without speaking, the goblin made a sharp motion with his claw-like hands and another goblin promptly came over. The two had a brief conversation in gobbledygook before the second goblin took Harry's key and spoke to him.

"This way, Mr. Potter."

They began to walk away as they gestured with their hand to follow. Harry easily matched his pace with the short goblin and endured another thrilling adventure down to his vault. Once the door to vault had been opened, he hastened to put his few Galleons and Sickles in with the rest of the large stacks of money.

However, as he was finishing up, he noticed a door he'd never noticed before within the vault itself. He walked over to the fairly normal looking door, but when he tried to open it, it refused to move. In fact, no matter how much he grunted and pulled at the blasted thing, it acted as if it were part of the stone walls itself. Giving up for the moment, but not at all deterred from trying to enter, he returned to the goblin he'd come down with.

"What's that?" Harry asked his short companion, pointing to where the door had been from the entrance of the vault only to become very confused when he could no longer see the mysterious door. The goblin looked where Harry was pointing, but like Harry at the moment, only saw a stone wall.

"That, Mr. Potter," the goblin began in a very demeaning voice, "is a wall; a structure that exists between the floor and ceiling, to keep the two apart. The world has done you a great disservice in not telling you this earlier, but it pleases me to no end to be the one to impart such knowledge upon one of the world's greatest wizards."

Harry felt the goblin had very much enjoyed the insult he had dished out, but couldn't very well fault him. He probably looked every bit the nut-case he deserved to be called for asking such a question and pointing at a plain stone wall. Just to ensure he wasn't going bonkers, he stepped inside the vault again and at once, the door reappeared.

"Come inside my vault a moment," he told the goblin. The goblin, who'd been smiling viciously at Harry's foolish question a moment earlier, now had a sour face at the offer.

"Mr. Potter," the goblin began, sounding very much like a dissatisfied professor McGonagall, "I find it my duty to inform you that as per the Goblin Nation Treaty of the year 1542 CE, goblins are not permitted to enter a customer's vault unless on official busi-"

Harry didn't very much care for the impromptu history lesson and quickly grabbed a handful of Galleon's and walked over to the goblin, took their hand and placed the gold in it. The goblin was very much caught off guard and looked just about ready to give Harry a piece of their mind before they realized what was in their hand.

"If I hire you to take a look inside my vault, does that satisfy the Goblin Nation Treaty of… 1572?"

"1542… CE…" the goblin amended in a faraway voice as he counted the Galleon's in his hand. "Yes," and moving quicker than Harry had ever seen any goblin move, they stuffed the gold into some pocket, "yes, I do believe everything is in order. Shall we?"

The goblin sounded slightly friendlier, but still had something of a snarl on their face. They walked into the vault and almost immediately, the goblin's beady eyes widened before they settled back to their original angry squint as they saw the door.

"Well, what is it?" Harry asked expectantly.

"A secondary vault, I believe." The Goblin dutifully inspected the door and surrounding stone wall. "Most older customers of Gringotts have them, used to store auxiliary assets that aren't as liquid as actual currency."

"Liquid?" Harry glanced around the room and did not spot a drop of any fluid.

"Easy to spend, Mr. Potter," the goblin growled. "And here I thought you were going to school."

"Economics isn't part of the curriculum," he tried defending, only to realize how stupid that sounded. Why on earth wasn't it?

"Clearly," the goblin grumbled. "I'm assuming you tried to open it? That was what you were doing before, correct? Or were you, in fact, trying to slam yourself repeatedly against another stone wall?"

"How much would I need to pay you to be nice?"

"Mr. Potter, there isn't enough gold in the world…" the goblin smiled sickly, "but do feel free to try."

"Right then," Harry felt a bit uncomfortable all the sudden, "any idea why it won't open?"

"Most families that have similar secondary vaults choose to place certain… restrictions on them. It wouldn't do for a young heir to sell off a priceless family tome or weapon, would it?" the goblin said in a mocking manner. "Of course, for a small fee, perhaps Gringotts could tell you what this secondary vault in particular requires for entry?" the goblin offered in his best effort to sound enticing.

"How small a fee?"

Harry immediately felt as if he had somehow just massively bungled up as the goblins grin became even more predatory.

"Oh, not very much at all… though… we would have to go back up to the main offices and fill out a small bit of paperwork, sign a couple of forms, route a few documents-" Harry quickly grabbed another hand full of Galleon's and gave them to the goblin who had already held out his hand. He knew it would've been much cheaper to have gone through the paper work gauntlet, but he didn't want to spend his whole lunch at the bank.

"Perhaps you're not as foolish as you appear to be," the goblin smiled wickedly.

"The door?" Harry said a bit impatiently. The goblin frowned a bit, but Harry couldn't find himself caring all that much. The goblin was there to do a job, not be his friend, and besides, any friendship where he had to pay for any help he got didn't sound healthy.

The goblin pulled out a dagger from his hip and Harry was momentarily worried he'd been a bit too boorish for the goblin's taste, but his worry was quickly replaced by a sick sense of fascination as the goblin cut his own small hand. He then began to chant in gobbledygook, the blood on his now healed hand beginning to float up into the air before forming strange runic symbols he'd never seen on any of Hermione's ancient runes homework.

The blood glowed an ethereal red, briefly lighting up the dim vault in its crimson light before everything settled, the blood seeming to quickly dry in mid-air into a crusty, black dust that eventually settled back down towards the goblin who had pulled out a piece of parchment while Harry had been distracted by the blood. The dried blood-dust began to settle into words he couldn't make heads or tails of, and he quickly assumed it to be written gobbledygook.

"Hm," the goblin hummed thoughtfully as he read over whatever the parchment said. "Whoever put the enchantments on this door was very… creative." Harry felt that whatever the goblin had just said was probably the closest he'd ever get to hearing a goblin compliment a wizard; or, perhaps, a witch.

"How so?"

He wasn't able to help himself and peered over the goblins shoulder, only to frown disappointedly at once again realizing that, while he might be able to communicate with snakes, goblins were another matter entirely.

"Well, for all intents and purposes, this door can only be opened by an adult."

Harry's shoulder's slumped, realizing he may very well never see what was behind the door if his life so far was any indicator. What other 14 year old had to deal with dragons, Dementors and dark lords?

"However," the goblin said leadingly, seeming to catch Harry's dejected slump, "the definition of adult is very… loose in this case."

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. The goblin smiled his predatory smile again and he briefly wondered if he would have to yet again pay to get what he wanted, but it seemed the goblin's hands had been greased enough today.

"There is no mention of a physical age, nor, for that matter, even a psychological one." Harry raised an eyebrow and the goblin's grin turned into more of a scowl. "Do they teach you anything at that blasted school?"

He found himself almost agreeing with the grumpy goblin. There did seem to be a distinct lack of 'general education' at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was falsely assumed he'd be given that at home? He figured most children actually had adults in their lives that cared enough to want to see their kids succeed in life and teach them some of the requisite knowledge Hogwarts seemed to omit.

"In simple terms, then," the goblin placated acidly. "One doesn't strictly need to be over the age of 17, the age of majority, to open that door," the goblin glanced towards said door. "While it might be the easiest route, to be sure, it's not the only one. While much of the enchanting says very little on what is specifically required for these other routes, I can safely say that the clients maturity plays a much larger role than any other simplistic way of measuring age."

"So, what? I'm not mature enough?" Harry looked at the door as if it had affronted him.

"Basically, yes," the goblin confirmed, a nasty smile on their face.

"But, I could possibly open it if I mature enough, even before my 17th birthday?" he clarified, glancing back at the goblin.

"While highly improbable of happening, it's not impossible," the goblin answered, throwing in the required underhanded insult. He rolled it off his shoulders, starting to become accustomed to the acidic speech, and glanced at the door once more. "The fact you can even see the door right now is promising, as it's only meant to present itself to adults."

"Something to look forward to then."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," the goblin replied. "Will that be all, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, I think we are done." He and the goblin exited the vault, and as they did, Harry belatedly realized he had probably spent much more money than he had actually deposited. As if to rub salt in the wound, once he was back in the main lobby, his goblin escort sent him off with a parting remark.

"Gringotts appreciates your business."

"I'm sure it does," he muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure how much time he'd spent underground, but he didn't feel like abusing Mr. Greengrass' kindness any more than necessary so quickly grabbed a bite to eat and returned to work with one question weighing on his mind.

How to become mature enough to open the door?

The question was enough to distract him through the rest of the day, only really shaking out of his thoughts when Mr. Greengrass began to pack up shop.

Harry had been debating with himself how much he should tell his employer about his situation since beginning to work for him. Remus had said this morning that Dumbledore wouldn't let the issue lay, and sooner or later, someone who hadn't been friends with his dead parents would come around and haul him back to the Dursleys, he was almost sure of it. So, maybe, it would help to get his boss in his corner. He'd said, after all, that it would be an inconvenience for him to have to find and train a new helper…

"Good night, Harry," Mr. Greengrass waved as he began to leave the store. "See you in the morning."

"Sir?" Harry called out at the last possible second, just as Mr. Greengrass was about the shut the door.

"Yes?" the man said, slowly coming back in through the frame to hear out Harry who was now suddenly twelve times more hesitant to tell his boss anything.

"Well, um, I just wanted to say… that is-" before he could lower his head any further, Mr. Greengrass spoke up.

"Harry, what did I say the first night we met?"

Harry looked up at the man and saw that, like that night, Mr. Greengrass was looking at him fully and expectantly. He bolstered his self-confidence best he could and raised his chin.

"Sir, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for giving me a place to stay, good meals, and challenging work. And… thanks for respecting my privacy."

Harry also wanted to tell the man he was grateful that he didn't call him a freak, enforce ridiculous curfews, or beat on him when he committed an imagined slight, but thought it best to stick to the basics. Mr. Greengrass smiled jovially at Harry.

"Well, you're quite welcome. For my part, I'm glad you're not some hoodlum or mad man the Prophet tries to make you out to be," Mr. Greengrass returned, smiling even wider as Harry's face flushed of colour. "Ha!" he laughed harder seeing Harry go white as a sheet. "What? Did you honestly think I didn't read the national paper? But don't you worry, boy. The Prophet can print as much libel against you as they want, I've seen enough of your work ethic to know you're not some kind of attention seeking whelp. No… I've seen those kinds of boys before, and you… You're certainly not one of them." Mr. Greengrass chuckled to himself again as he made his way back to the door.

"Don't you worry, Harry," Mr. Greengrass said reassuringly, doing his best to not laugh too much at Harry. "Your job here is safe, and so is your lodging, for that matter. You have a good night."

"You too, sir," he called weakly after Mr. Greengrass as the man walked off, his booming laugh occasionally sounding out as he walked down the alley. He finished cleaning up before heading upstairs for the evening, mulling over his conversation with Mr. Greengrass.

It seemed that he'd misjudged how well his employer thought of him. He personally hadn't read any articles in the Prophet, he didn't feel like wasting money on the rag, but it was still a national newspaper, as Mr. Greengrass had pointed out. For the business man to continue to keep him on despite his name apparently being pulled through the mud, _again_, well, that had to mean something. But did it mean he would stand against even Dumbledore if the supreme Mugwump came to take Harry back?

Hedwig gave a loud hoot as he entered his room, disrupting him from his spiralling thoughts. It had been a few days since writing Neville and apparently Hedwig had brought a reply. Harry briefly frowned at the fact that he still had no mail from Ron or Hermione, but then again, Hedwig had always been the most diligent and intelligent owl he'd ever seen. He gave Hedwig an owl treat for her continued diligence and opened Neville's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_My summer has actually been pretty great so far! Gran had managed to keep herself busy the first week of the summer with board meetings for the school. It's ridiculous some of the lies the Prophets been trying to spread, Harry, and the board's been trying to do what they can to prevent the paper from slandering students. Well, most of the board that is. Don't think for a second that any sensible person will believe any of that rubbish, I certainly don't. Anyway, with Gran having been away for so long, I was able to do some real thinking. _

_No offence, but with you being a champion, the dorms were real hectic all year long, and even after the tournament, well, not to be a downer, but there wasn't much time to do much else but mourn for Cedric. If you ever want to talk about it with someone, don't hesitate, and if not with me, then with Ron, or even Hermione. It's important to rely on your friends from time to time._

_So, I got to thinking, and I think I've figured out what I want to do when I graduate from Hogwarts. For the longest time, I had wanted to be an Auror like my mum and dad. I'm not sure how much you know about Aurors, but I guess you could say they are like the wizarding version of policemen. My parents, they were some of the best, though, from what my Gran's told me, your father and Sirius Black could give them a run for their money and sometimes even helped them out on a few cases. I don't think either of them were Aurors though, so I wonder why Gran would know something like that… _

_Anyway, I've got my dad's wand and everything, so it seemed like it was bound to happen. But watching you during the tournament… I guess you could say I know my limits, and I know I'm not nearly as good as you or even Ron is at magic. And if even you were having such a tough time, how am I supposed to stand a chance as an Auror? So, I thought about it and I think I'm going to become a travelling botanist like my great-uncle Algie! Sure, it may not be the flashiest job out there, but that's not really me, is it? And besides, sometimes plants come in real handy, even you can admit that's true. What if I help someone one day by discovering some new, rare magical plant? Or even a mundane one, for that matter?_

_I suppose I should congratulate you on your new accommodations! I didn't know you had needed a place to stay over the summer. If I had, I'd have mailed Gran and had her prepare a room. Speaking of which, if things don't work out, let me know. We've got tons of rooms just sitting around right now, so you wouldn't inconvenience us any. Though, I must admit I kind of envy you having your own place, even if it is just a single room. I love Gran and all, and I'm sure she loves me, but, well, she's Gran, you know? You saw what I did to the Boggart…_

_I hope everything continues to go well, Harry. And don't forget to talk to people!_

_Warmest regards,  
Neville Longbottom_

He smiled as he finished the letter, though there were a few things that it had mentioned that worried Harry. He could make an easy guess as to what person was leaning on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. While Mr. Malfoy might no longer sit on the actual board, he had enough clout and Galleons to influence those who did, he'd done it before, after all. On the other hand, Neville's comment about what kind of people would believe the Prophet in the first place rung very true with him after his conversation with Mr. Greengrass.

He was also a little concerned that Neville thought so little of his own magical ability. While it was true that he tended to lag behind the rest of the class in regards to his practical work, something in the letter had tipped him off to what the reason behind that might be. He vividly remembered his trip to Mr. Ollivander and the phrase the man had kept repeating during his time there. 'The wand chooses the wizard,' he had said. He'd also said that Voldemort had done great, but terrible things, so… perhaps it should be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, Neville owed it to himself to at least try out a custom wand. Perhaps he could invite him out to spend a day together? Would that be strange? No, Neville had invited him to practically live with him during the summer should things not work out here, so what would a day of hanging out mean compared to that?

Harry was pretty impressed that Neville was already thinking about the future. Should he start as well? Before, he'd been pretty content with just living day by day, looking forward to Hogwarts while with the Dursleys and then looking forward to the holidays when at Hogwarts. Perhaps a little thought towards the future would do him good? Not like it would hurt any. Besides, maybe if he fantasized about his future, he might fight harder for it the next time it was put in jeopardy by the megalomaniac that seemed to have it out for him.

He suddenly remembered what Neville had said about their fathers knowing each other. He hadn't ever heard about that, and wondered how much more Neville or his Gran knew about his parents. He was also suddenly struck by the memory of learning from Dumbledore the truth about Neville's parent's condition. Now, more than ever, he felt he owed it to both himself and Neville to deepen their friendship. Perhaps in another life, they'd have grown up together.

He began to pen his reply to Neville, being sure to include an invitation to join him for a day to just stroll Diagon Alley and perhaps muggle London as well. He also opened up a bit about his confrontation with Voldemort in the graveyard. Nothing that would give Neville the nightmares Harry hoped to be free of soon, but as he told Neville about the feelings he had felt and had been dealing with, he felt a load come off his shoulders that he hadn't quite realized he'd been carrying.

Before he could finish his letter, he decided to go to bed. Besides, he couldn't quite send Hedwig off with mail if he wanted to wake up on time tomorrow. He'd made that mistake with Neville's first letter and wouldn't do it again any time soon.

**AN:** Thank you all once again for reading the chapter, I hope you enjoyed the update. One of my pet peeves in FanFiction is the friendly goblins who give you blood tests and all that mumbo-jumbo. I'd think anything close to a blood test would be done at a medical facility, not at a bank ran by creatures who've consistantly been oppressed by wizards who they've warred with. I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	4. The Problem With Unicorn Hair

**CHAPTER 4**

**~THE PROBLEM WITH UNICORN HAIR~**

"So then, I should use the Quampus wax instead?" he asked Mr. Greengrass who was close by and watching intently.

"Not quite. The Quampus is known to be quite preferential to moist environments, yes?" Harry nodded. He vaguely remembered Hagrid having said something to that effect when he'd gone on about his Blast-Ended Skrewts. "Well, right now we want an effect that will make a less hospitable environment for the fungus, and moist isn't the right way to go in that regard."

"Right…"

He looked back at the choices laid out in front of him. Well, if the Quampus wax was out, and Mermaid tears too volatile…

"Salamander droppings?" he finally asked, slightly disgusted. "People have to drink this?"

"No! Of course not!" Mr. Greengrass sounded offended. "I mean, yes to the droppings, but not every potion has to be ingested. Haven't you ever made a burn salve before?"

He shook his head in the negative and it looked like Mr. Greengrass wanted to choke someone. Harry was very tempted to point him at Snape and see what would happen. Adding the droppings and stirring the concoction the specified number of times, he satisfyingly watched as each stir thickened the potion until, on the final stir, the cauldron he'd been working over had a royal purple salve sitting in it.

"Excellent work," Mr. Greengrass remarked, running a finger through the product to test its consistency. "I'd say at least A-grade quality _Tinea Pedis_ balm. I'll be able to put this on the top shelf."

Harry's chest puffed just a bit at the praise. If only Snape could see him now, he'd probably pop an eyeball out in outrage or something.

"Well, I don't see any reason for you to not brew more potions if you're up to it. You've been keeping the front remarkably well stocked, so a day over the cauldron shouldn't hurt anything. Just be sure to call me if you need help. I'll be coming by every so often to make sure the fumes aren't getting to you." Harry nodded his understanding.

"Anything in particular you need?"

Harry flipped through the book he'd been reading out of to make the potion he'd just created. It was remarkably detailed compared to the texts he'd been using in his potions class, going into detail about each ingredient and the reasons behind certain steps. He wondered if there was a connection between the sparse texts Snape recommended and his dismal grades; or everyone else's, for that matter. Maybe he was even twisted enough to give his precious Slytherins helpful 'supplementary' texts. Then again, there wasn't anything in any rules about _not_ using supplementary texts… but shouldn't something like that be common knowledge? But then, since when did Slytherin play fair? Yes, something like that would be right up-

"Harry?" Mr. Greengrass said tapping the young man on the shoulder.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized, "my thoughts got away from me."

"Just make sure it doesn't happen while you're brewing," Mr. Greengrass said with a small smile and pat on the back. "I could do with some more of Snifflumus' Snot-Reducer. I've actually been running quite low and it'd be a good idea to stock up before schooling starts. Additionally, it's fairly simple. You should find it on page 127. Let me know if you start to run low on anything." Harry nodded to the man and began to get to work.

Mr. Greengrass had set him straight when he'd first tried beginning the _Tinea Pedis_ Balm. A clean cauldron and tool set was vital, especially when making medical grade potions. Mr. Greengrass had also told him to always cast a Bubble-Head Charm whenever brewing in an enclosed space, something that had never happened down in the dingy dungeons back at Hogwarts. In fact, Harry was surprised how many 'common' or 'safe' practices weren't mentioned in Snape's classroom. Well, maybe not surprised as much as enlightened.

At some point during his work, he heard the enchanted door give out its chime, followed closely by a high pitched, squealing voice that most certainly belonged to a younger girl, but he remained focused on his work. Distractions while brewing were the number one reason behind faulty or downright dangerous product.

"Who are you?" someone suddenly asked, nearly making Harry add an extra stir. He looked up from his cauldron and saw a young boy, no older than maybe ten, looking up at him from the doorway to the front of the shop. Harry tried to look over and behind the boys' wild sandy blond hair to see if his parents were close by, but no one seemed to be looking for the child who continued to peer up at Harry with curious brown eyes.

"I'm Harry. Who are you?" he asked back, using his peripheral vision to make sure his potion didn't get away from him.

"Benjamin, but you can call me Ben," the child said, his light brown eyes suddenly flicking to the cauldron Harry was working over. "What'cha makin'?"

"Snifflumus' Snot-Reducer," he replied, not knowing what else to tell the child but the truth.

"Yuck," Ben said, making a disgusted face. "Can you add strawberries or something to it so that it'll taste better?" the boy asked hopefully. "Mum says that'd make the potion go bad, but I think if you add it after it's all done, it should work, right?" Harry blinked like his owl Hedwig. Just who was this boy and where were his parents?

"... I suppose we could try it out with a little bit of the finished product…" he finally said, the boy's face lighting up at the prospect of possibly improving the taste of an apparently nasty tasting potion.

"Can I help?" the boy asked anxiously, walking into the room more fully and pulling up a tall stool so he could actually see the counter top.

"... I don't see why not-"

"Wicked!" the boy shouted before suddenly slapping his hands over his mouth, slowly looking over at Harry. "Don't tell my mum I said that!" he finally whispered. Harry couldn't help but smile and nod.

"Right then." Harry put the book he'd been reading from between them. "Think you can handle de-shelling those snails?" The boy looked like he'd been told Christmas was coming early. "Oh!" Harry suddenly said, reaching behind him to grab an enchanted necklace. "Put this on, too."

"What's that?" Ben asked, but still put the necklace on regardless.

"It's a necklace enchanted with something like the Bubble-Head Charm," he explained as he showed Ben he was wearing one himself. He figured it was probably equally important for the child beside him to wear some safety equipment too. As they worked, Ben made sure that Harry wasn't wanting for a good conversation.

Apparently, Benjamin was Mr. Greengrass' grandchild, and both were part of a long line of proud, Greengrass pure-bloods. Harry was surprised to hear that from the child, somehow having got it in his head that all 'proud pure-bloods' acted like Draco Malfoy and his father. But then he remembered that the Weasleys were also a pure-blood family that could, at times, be quite proud, and none of them were too bad. Well, there was Percy but…

He continued to listen as Ben told stories about growing up in a large manor with loving parents and siblings. He had to constantly remind himself to keep an eye on the potion, almost getting lost in the child's tales more than once. Ben told him about the drama of wizarding politics from the perspective of a young boy, the boredom of learning proper etiquette, and the stuffiness of required niceties when 'important' people came by to visit. He also heard about the hilarious pranks, the fun vacations, and the relaxed moments between family. Harry was able to entertain Ben with some stories from Hogwarts in turn, but left out a lot of the details like he tended to do whenever he told someone about his time at school.

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts," Ben said wistfully as they finished putting the last ingredients into the potion.

"What house are you hopping to get sorted into?" Harry asked as he began his final stirs.

"Slytherin, of course," Ben said with a big smile. "Almost everyone in my family has gone through that house, and I certainly don't want to end up like Astoria and get put into Hufflepuff. What an embarrassment."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff? Or any of the other houses, for that matter?" Harry asked, feeling like he was obliged to stick up for the other three houses, if for no other reason than he was in one of those other three.

"Well," Ben began as if it were common knowledge. "Everyone knows you go to Hufflepuff when none of the other houses suit you, and that's just sad. And then there's Gryffindor. Bravery can only take you so far in life, and it's often a short one at that. Ravenclaw might be known for their wit, but they hardly ever use it for much of anything. Now, Slytherin, that's where people who want to do something go." Harry was surprised at just how much a young boy had thought about this. Without bothering to argue with the child, he completed the potion with his last counter-stir and inspected their work.

"Bleh, that's certainly Snifflumus' Snot-Reducer," Ben said looking at the potion that looked like the substance it was supposed to reduce.

"Benjamin?" a female voice called out from the main part of the store, causing the boy beside him to stiffen.

"Quick! Disillusion me!" Ben told Harry in a strained whisper.

"Wha- I can't!" he whispered back, glancing back at the door. "I'm not allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts!" Ben looked like he wanted to say something to that, but the female voice called again, closer this time.

"Benjamin, where are you?"

"Don't let her know I'm in here!" Ben said as he stealthily hopped down from the stool and hid in a seemingly random cupboard like he had done something similar a thousand times before. Almost as soon as Ben had closed the door on himself, a regal looking woman with blond hair similar only in colour to Ben's came to the door-frame separating the main shop from the room Harry was currently in.

"Benja- Oh, hello," the woman said, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks as she put a hand up over her chest as if Harry had frightened her.

"Hello," Harry replied. "I, uh, take it you're looking for someone?"

"Yes," the woman composed herself as she glanced around the room. "A boy about this tall," she said, indicating with her hand the exact height Ben had been. Catching her brown eyes, he sent a meaningful glance towards the cupboard Ben had hidden in.

"Sorry," Harry replied once the woman seemed to understand what he was trying to discretely convey, "haven't seen anyone like that around."

"Ah, well, that's too bad," the woman said, a smile crossing her face. "I had planned on taking him to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, but since he doesn't seem to be around-"

Ben suddenly burst out of his hiding spot.

"Whoa, how'd I end up in there?" the boy said, pretending to dust himself off. He looked up at Harry and the other woman acting like it was a complete surprise that either of them were there. "Mum? What are you doing here? And who are you?" Ben asked Harry, acting as if he'd never met him before.

"Well hello there Benjamin," the boy's mother said un-surprised, as if this kind of behaviour was fairly common. "How on earth did you end up in that cupboard?"

"Oh, that?" the boy asked, looking back over at the piece of furniture he'd just come bursting out of. "Magic, probably. Accidental, of course, can never know with these kinds of things." Harry tried as hard as he could to keep from laughing at the boy's refusal to admit he'd been there the whole time.

"Interesting theory," the boy's mother said as she put a finger to her chin as if thinking. "Perhaps you ought to go find your sister, Daphne, and tell her we're getting ready to leave."

"Okay," Ben replied, making to leave before suddenly stopping himself and looking over at Harry. "Say, is that Snifflumus' Snot-Reducer? You should try adding, oh, I dunno, strawberries or something to it and… er… telling… someone how it tastes." Without any further strangeness, the boy left, leaving Harry and Ben's mother in the room.

"I'm sorry if he was bothering you," the woman quickly apologized once the boy had left. "He can be… a handful at times."

"Not at all," he replied with an easy smile. "He was actually quite the helper."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," the woman said with a kind smile. "So, are you the one who's been helping out around here? The front was much better stocked and cleaned than I've seen it in ages, and Zacharias isn't known to pay too close a mind to things like that."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, wiping his hand against the apron he was wearing to make sure any snail mucus still present was cleaned off. "Harry Potter," he said, putting out his hand in greeting. The woman looked at his hand for a moment, and he wondered if he had just committed some terrible faux pas, but then she smiled lightly and shook his offered hand.

"Ophelia Greengrass," the woman greeted back with a genuine smile, her hands incredibly soft and warm, but her grip firm without being overbearing. "I didn't know my father had hired a celebrity to work for him over the summer." Harry fought against the urge to frown at the woman for mentioning his, in his own opinion, ill-begotten fame, but before the woman could notice the struggle play out across his face, they were interrupted by an annoyed voice.

"Mother, did you have to set the little menace upon me? He won't stop bugging me about going to-" Silence pervaded the small room as the girl who had been complaining saw both Harry and her mother.

She was about Harry's age and, like the rest of her family, had blonde coloured hair that came down past her shoulders. Harry figured Hermione would be very jealous of the girl's distinctly non-bushy hair. But what struck Harry most about her was her eyes. They were a striking blue colour that made him forget where he was for a moment.

"Daphne," Mrs. Greengrass began, breaking the spell of silence. "This is-"

"Potter, yes, I know," the girl interrupted sharply, her eyes narrowing in a manner that made Harry wish he had something to hide behind. "What are you doing here?" she asked confrontationally. He stole a glance at the girl's mother, but the woman seemed to be just as shocked by the sudden animosity as he was.

"Well," Harry began somewhat hesitantly, "I did just finish making some of Snifflumus' Snot-Red-"

"That?" Daphne cut off again, pointing at the cauldron with the recently finished potion. "You're telling me you just made that perfect potion over there after four years of floundering about in potions class?"

"Daphne!" the girl's mother said, shock coming very clearly off her voice. "What's the meaning of this?!" Daphne, however, seemed to be waiting for an explanation, and Harry had the very odd feeling his life might be forfeit should he not provide a satisfactory one soon.

"It's fine, Mrs. Greengrass," he said in an effort to de-escalate the situation that had so quickly gotten out of hand. "It's true, I'm usually a pants brewer back at school," to which Daphne muttered something under her breath that made Mrs. Greengrass look even more cross, but before the two could interrupt him further, he pushed on with a loud, "however, Mr. Greengrass provided me with a rather helpful guide that makes it simple for even a 'dunderhead' like me to brew competently."

"Why would grand-dad-"

"Mr. Potter happens to be working for your grandfather this summer, Daphne," Mrs. Greengrass said sternly giving the girl a glare that should've melted her into a puddle. Daphne remained resolutely in her solid form.

"Working f- You're his summer help?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"That he is," Mr. Greengrass said, walking into view behind Daphne who whirled around to face the man. To his side was another girl, a bit shorter than Daphne but taller than Ben who was peeking around the door-frame. Mr. Greengrass' face showed that he was unhappy, but Harry wasn't sure why yet, though the part of him that had grown up with the Dursleys' was telling him that it was because of him.

"Do you have a problem with my employee, Daphne?" Mr. Greengrass asked, his voice carrying in the silent room. Daphne looked like she had many problems with Harry being employed by her grandfather, but eventually she replied with a single word.

"No," she ground out roughly before storming out of the room, leaving the rest of the Greengrass' confused in her wake. After a long moment, Mrs. Greengrass was first to recompose herself.

"I'm deeply sorry for my daughter's unsightly outburst, Mr. Potter," she began.

"Do you two know each other from school?" Mr. Greengrass asked coolly, not seeming to take any stance yet.

"No sir," he replied quickly, trying to think back on any time he might've slighted a Daphne Greengrass. "I mean, we have a few classes together, Potions and Defence namely, and there's always been a… strong rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin-"

"It's because of Tracey Davis," the girl near Mr. Greengrass put in, Astoria of Hufflepuff, if Harry had to guess. "Her mum's been thinking about not letting Tracey go back to Hogwarts next year because of the stories in the Prophet." A look of understanding crossed Zacharias' and Ophelia's faces at the news and Harry felt his shoulders slump a little in relief that he'd not personally offended his employers granddaughter.

"I see," Mr. Greengrass said after a moment.

"Mr. Potter, I'd like to apologize on my daughters behalf and invite you out to ice cream with us, my treat."

"Oh no," he quickly declined, suddenly feeling ten times more nervous than he had when Mr. Greengrass has been possibly second guessing his employment. "I couldn't-"

"But of course!" Mr. Greengrass suddenly interrupted, his previous attitude having flipped right around as he was now sporting something of mischievous smile. "I was going to tell you to take a break while I stepped out with my family anyway. Come now, Harry, no need to be polite." Mr. Greengrass came fully into the room and eyed the potion Harry and Ben had made.

"Excellent potion, by the way, I knew you were a natural." The man reached for a large bell glass and put it over the cauldron. "Preservation charmed, to keep the potion while we're out," the man explained once he saw Harry's raised eyebrow. "Now come along, let's go eat some ice cream."

Ben whooped for joy while Astoria gave a more dignified 'yes' of excitement. He found himself being led out the shop by Mr. Greengrass and past a glowering Daphne who didn't seem at all pleased that he'd now be joining her family for ice cream.

He wasn't at all sure how to act while having ice cream with the Greengrass'. To him, it felt a bit forced and awkward until Ben came up and began to start a conversation while the rest of the family was finishing their orders.

"Thanks for covering for me back there," Ben said in a whisper, checking to make sure his mother was still out of earshot.

"Oh," Harry replied, having forgotten about his little ruse with all the sudden Daphne business. "Well, you're welcome, I suppose," he grinned lopsidedly.

"So... you're in Gryffindor?" The boy asked after a moment. Harry realized that the whole time he'd been telling Ben about Hogwarts he hadn't mentioned what house he had been sorted into. He briefly wondered what that said about how important houses really were to him, but saved the philosophical question for later and instead nodded to the boy.

"Yeah, I'm one of those stupid brave people," he joked, watching Ben turn a little red in embarrassment.

"I didn't mean… well, there are always exceptions, right?"

"I suppose so," Harry allowed, still smiling as Ben looked a little relieved. "But don't feel too terrible about it. Even the hat was conflicted on where to put me," he confessed. "It almost put me in Slytherin, but I didn't want to be anywhere near Draco Malfoy."

"Ooh," Ben winced. "That _is_ a tough choice… Well, I can't say I fault you all that much."

"You know Draco?" Harry asked surprised.

"Unfortunately," Ben sighed. The boy quickly glanced back over at his family who seemed to be just finishing up their orders. "The Malfoys like to remind us Greengrass' every so often about how we're both pure-blood families with 'responsibilities' to wizarding society." Harry frowned and wondered just what king of 'responsibilities' the Malfoys were reminding the family of, but before he could ask, he was being called to pick up his order with Ben.

He was able to have a relatively decent time so long as he stuck close to Ben, keeping to lighter topics for the remaining time, but whenever he ventured away from Ben even a bit, Daphne made sure to let him know her displeasure with him for something he wasn't even able to control.

He'd been impressed with Ben's maturity a few moments ago for admitting he may have been wrong about judging people based on what house they were sorted into, but once there was some ice cream in his hand, it was easy to see that there was plenty of the young boy still left to grow up. Harry wondered how he compared.

On one hand, Harry wanted to be like every other kid, like what Ron would probably be like without Hermione to keep him in check. Coasting through school, not having to worry about what other people may think about him, and generally having fun whenever possible. He didn't want to deal with having no parents, no real home to look forward to going back to, or a Dark Lord who seemed to have a fixation with him.

On the other hand, he realized that he was quite unique and would never be able to be a 'normal' person. He had survived an un-survivable curse. The fact of the matter was that a Dark Lord and his followers _had_ killed off his entire family because they hadn't joined him. He had a knack for getting into, and consequently, getting out of, trouble. And on top of that all, there _was_, in fact, a Dark Lord who was out there, plotting his demise.

One way or another, he would have to mature. He suddenly remembered the door in the vault far below his feet. Everyone grew up, he reasoned. And what was so great about childhood, especially his? If he was going to have to grow up, why not do it now and get a leg up on everyone for once? Ever since joining the magical world, he had felt like he was in last place. Everyone was ahead of him; Ron because he'd been born into it, Hermione because she studied so much-

"Harry?" Mr. Greengrass asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he replied instinctively. "I was just thinking."

"Looked like some pretty serious thoughts," Mr. Greengrass chuckled, though Harry caught the concerned look that passed over the man's eyes. It seemed his thoughts hadn't been as private as he hopped they had been.

"Anyway," Mr. Greengrass began again, "I think I'm going to close the store early today, doesn't feel right to go back to work after such a relaxing time out." Harry nearly told the man to speak for himself as he caught another glare from Daphne. "You're free for the rest of the day, so enjoy yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Harry!" Ben shouted out from beside his mother who gave Harry a wave of her own. Astoria was kind enough to dip her head to him while Daphne just stormed out of the shop, much to the chagrin of her mother. Once all the Greengrass' left, including Zacharias, he tried finishing the rest of his melted ice cream, but found his appetite for it gone, not that he had particularly had a craving for it in the first place. Giving Mr. Fortescue, who had helped him out on more than one occasion, a friendly wave, he left to go to the Leaky Cauldron.

Neville had agreed to meet up with him and today they would be… well, he actually wasn't completely sure yet. He knew he wanted to get Neville out to Mr. Ollivander's and see if a different wand could help him out at all, and maybe venture into muggle London for a bit, but other than that, he wasn't sure what they would be doing.

"Hello, Tom," he greeted as he walked into the barman's establishment.

"Harry! How has work been at the apothecary?"

Harry noticed a few patrons glancing at him warily, easily identifying the reason why when he saw Daily Prophet's in their hands, but paid it no mind as he answered Tom. He'd dealt with this back at Hogwarts last year when everyone had thought he'd cheated to get into the tournament, and like then, these people would eventually be proven wrong. He just hoped they wouldn't realize it too late.

"It's been rewarding. Hard work, but rewarding."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Tom said as he got him a glass of water. "Anything to eat? Drink?"

Harry was feeling a bit hungry. Ice cream wasn't bad, but it certainly didn't fill someone up.

"Some fish and chips, please," he replied, "and water's fine for me."

"Fish and chips, coming right up," Tom repeated with a smile.

As the barman walked off, Harry grabbed a spare copy of the Prophet lying around out of curiosity. True to what Hermione had said on the train ride back to London, he didn't spot any stories about him from Rita in the paper. However, there was plenty of them that she very well could've written, so ridiculous and hair-brained as they were.

"Ah," Tom said as he poured Harry some more water. "I'm afraid there aren't too many good choices when it comes to newspapers these days. All lies and snake oil."

He gave Tom a smile and put the paper down. Just then, the Leakey Cauldron's fireplace roared green before Neville Longbottom stepped out of it perfectly. Harry tried to hide his jealousy as the boy looked around for and spotted Harry waiting on him.

"Hiya, Harry!" Neville said happily as he walked up to sit beside him, Tom already putting out another glass of water for the new arrival. "I didn't think you'd be here already and was going to grab a bite, do you mind?"

"No, not at all," Harry replied, smiling back at Neville. The boy's good attitude was oddly infectious and he didn't mind at all after all the nastiness Daphne had thrown his way. "I'm actually grabbing a bit of something myself."

"Oh? What'cha having?"

"Fish and chips."

"Sounds good enough," Neville said to Tom who had stood by waiting for Neville. Tom nodded and headed back to get the other order started. "Bit of a late lunch, then?" Neville asked.

"I suppose," Harry replied, really wishing he had that watch he'd been putting off getting. "Mr. Greengrass gave me the rest of the day off after we got some ice cream."

"You had ice cream with your boss?" Neville asked, a confused frown crossing his face. "I mean, I know stranger things have happened concerning you, but still…"

"No, it was more Mrs. Greengrass that invited me along after some… business between Daphne Greengrass and me."

"What was Daphne doing there? And what business?" Neville asked as Tom brought them their food. So, he began to explain how he'd met Benjamin while he'd been brewing, not forgetting to tell Neville his conspiracy about Snape giving his house supplementary texts for potions, and about how he'd met Ben's mother who also happened to be the mother of Daphne, and how Daphne had all but called him a Dunce in front of her mother and grandfather.

"Well," Neville said, picking up another one of the chips off his plate. "I suppose I can see how you got invited along, but still…"

"Yeah, it was… awkward," Harry admitted.

"But that does explain why she was a bit moody during her birthday," Neville said off handedly, as if going to random people's birthdays was normal business. Harry decided to wake him from that delusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Oh," Neville said as if suddenly remembering something. "Well, I'm usually invited along to a lot of birthdays of other pure-blood families children. It's more of a status thing than anything really coming close to friendliness. 'Look how extravagant my parties are,' and all that posh. Gran returns the favour when it's my turn, but they're always rather dull." Harry was struck again at how poor a friend he'd been to his house-mate over the years. Neville and him were born scarcely more than 24 hours apart, and yet neither had celebrated their birthdays together.

"Well," Harry began finishing the last of the food on his plate, "let's change that next year, yeah?" Neville's face lit up as if they were going to celebrate his birthday right then and there.

"Yeah!" he said excitedly before turning red as all the faces in the bar came to bare on both him and Harry yet again.

"Come on," Harry laughed as he paid for himself and Neville. "Let's get out of here."

"Good idea," Neville muttered as they left the bar, Tom waving them a goodbye. The two walked down Diagon Alley at a comfortable pace. There weren't too many people out, causing Harry to feel conflicted. Yes, more people would mean less looking at him, but he didn't know how Neville would handle the crowds he thrived in.

"How do you do it, Harry?" Neville asked after a length of time.

"Huh?" Harry turned to look back at Neville who was looking around at all the people they were passing. He followed his gaze and saw nearly everyone around was staring and whispering, averting their eyes whenever either he or Neville caught them in the act.

"How do you just… like they're not even there?" Neville repeated, waving a hand at the people who had the decency to look ashamed for a brief moment before returning to doing what they had been doing as soon as he or Neville looked away.

"Practice," Harry said, a little moodily, "lots and lots of practice."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine, Neville," he replied nonchalantly. "It's not like you do it."

"Well, not any more," Neville said a little nervously. Harry looked over at him, but instead of blushing and refusing to answer like he had expected, Neville actually swallowed down his nerves and explained.

"Well, I kind of always figured we'd be in the same year," Neville laughed nervously. Harry gave his own lopsided smile as his classmate continued. "But when I realized we'd be in the same house, I couldn't believe my luck. To be in the same house as Harry Potter! The fact it was the same house as my parents was honestly an afterthought."

Harry actually blushed at what Neville was saying, but he continued anyway.

"When I heard you stuck up for me against Malfoy during our flying lessons first year-"

"That was actually Parvati," Harry said, making sure he didn't get undue credit.

"Yeah, but you didn't let him get away with it," Neville countered. "You were the one brave enough to actually _do_ something," Neville said meaningfully. "I don't know how much you remember of first year, but not a lot went right for me," Neville said bashfully.

Harry, in fact, did remember first year quite vividly, and while Neville hadn't been a highlight, he remembered all the misfortune that had seemed to follow the then round-faced boy.

"I remember a bit of first year," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I remember I wasn't that great of a friend-"

"Bah," Neville said waving him off, "I don't think either of us had settled in all that well that year." Harry smiled appreciatively at Neville. "But like I'd been saying, I looked up to you. You had all these adventures, and sure, they didn't always look fun or safe, but you still went through with them. You still _did_ things." Again, Harry flushed a bit at Neville's assessment of him. "I mentioned it in my letter, but last year I realized that _doing_ things is kind of your thing. It's what you're good at, whether you want to be or not. Me… well, I'm good at plants. I can stop trying to be you because I know myself now, I think. I mean, I still admire you a bit, but for real reasons rather than the mythical ones I used to."

"Mythical?" Harry asked, more as a way of trying to do something to get his face from being beet red than as an actual question. Neville still answered anyway.

"Well, there's a ton of stories about you at school," Neville admitted. "That whole business second year with snakes and the disappearances… Then you and Ginny and Ron all showing up late and… well, lots of theories for what happened that year. And while no one can find any proof, nearly every theory regarding Sirius Black and that Hippogriff has your name in it. Then of course, who can forget last year? Face it, you're practically going to be the next Merlin at the rate you're going."

The two boy's laughed a bit at that.

"You shouldn't stop trying, Neville," Harry said after a while. "I mean, feel free to stop trying to be me for sure. Trust me, it's not worth it. But you can still do great things. Not that plants aren't, well, great…"

"Harry, you did see my levitating charm first year, right?"

"I thought you were going for a burning spell?" Harry joked. Luckily, he was able to get a smile from Neville. "Well, I actually had an idea about that…"

"Ollivander's?" Neville said as they finally stopped in front of the store. "Did you need a new wand, Harry?"

"Not me, Neville," Harry said meaningfully.

"Me? But I've still got mine."

"I thought it was your dad's?" Harry said pointedly.

"Well, it is," Neville admitted brokenly, "but Gran said-"

"And I'm not trying to say you're Gran is wrong…" Harry said hedging, "But, Mr. Ollivander is a professional. I think we owe it to ourselves to at least… see what happens." Neville looked like he was torn on what to do, but eventually sighed and shrugged.

"Well, it can't hurt any, can it?" Neville said as they began to walk into the store. Harry smiled victoriously.

"Why, if it isn't Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Ollivander said a few moments after Harry and Neville had walked in. "I missed being able to help you the year I had Mr. Potter here as a customer. I'd assumed you'd taken to using a family wand."

"I have sir," Neville replied hesitantly, reminding Harry of what he most likely had been like when he'd first met the slightly eccentric wand maker. "My fathers," Neville added.

"Your father's, you say," the old wand maker said as he closed his eyes and thought. "Oh yes, I remember him," the man said with a smile. "Unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches, Cherry wood if I remember... Has the wand stopped working for you?" the man asked a genuine concern in his voice.

"More like it had never started working," Neville replied ashamedly.

"Never sta…?" the man said shocked. "Do you have it with you now?"

"Um, yes," Neville replied as he pulled his wand out for Mr. Ollivander.

"Oh my," the aged wand maker said after a few moments with Neville's wand.

"What?" Harry and Neville asked simultaneously.

"This wand has been damaged," the man replied sadly.

"Damaged!" Neville said, fear in his voice. "I've taken the best of care with it! How could I have done this to my own father's wand! Harry! My Gran's gonna-"

"I don't believe this damage was caused by you, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Ollivander interrupted gently, though with a trace amount of sorrow still in his voice.

"Not by me?" Neville repeated. "But I've not let anyone else use it."

"Mr. Longbottom, forgive me for asking, but, did your father use this wand until… the very end?"

There was a long period of silence in the shop until Neville broke it with a sombre, single word.

"Yes."

"I see," Mr. Ollivander said with a small, sad smile. "You'll be proud to know that your father fought his hardest then. Harder, probably, than he ever had before. You see, Mr. Longbottom, this wand's core, Unicorn hair, has become… burnt out, wilted, if you will. One of the few disadvantages of Unicorn hair is it's rare, but entirely possible, ability to become magically exhausted, burnt out, when a witch or wizard pushes too much magical energy through it." The shop was silent as Neville processed what he'd been told. Finally, after a long moment, the young man spoke up.

"Can you repair it?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Ollivander said sombrely. "However, I stand by my guarantee to replace any wand that becomes damaged through wear. You may, of course, keep this wand. I feel it's worth to you is far greater than it is to me," the wand maker said as he gingerly handed the wand back to Neville. "Please wait one moment," the man said as he went to the back of his shop. Harry wasn't sure what to do and waited with Neville.

"I had always wondered…" Neville said after a moment, "I had always wondered why he had failed," Neville finished. "Why he hadn't been able to do it."

"I'm sorry, Neville."

"No," Neville said quickly, turning to Harry with tears in his eyes, "no, don't be sorry. I'm so glad you brought me here, Harry. I can finally stop being mad at him. He tried his hardest. He pushed until he literally couldn't any more. You'll always be great, Harry, but after what Ollivander just said, my father can be my hero again."

"Mr. Longbottom," the wand maker politely interrupted, carrying a single box with him. He opened it up and presented Neville with a wand that looked nearly identical to the damaged one Neville had been using for just over four years. Neville picked up the new wand, a genuine smile crossing his face as his hand touched the wood.

"Well, what are you waiting for," Mr. Ollivander said with a fond smile. "Give it a wave."

Not having to be told twice, Neville gave the wand a wave. A brilliant procession of golden and red sparks spouted from the wand, dancing around Neville until he dropped his arm.

"Nearly identical to the wand you brought me," Mr. Ollivander began with a satisfied smile, "however, you will find this one's been reinforced with multiple unicorn hairs, and should be able to handle the family line of such extraordinary wizards who use it."

**AN**: A bit of a different take on Neville getting a new wand, so far as I know. I've not read something similar at least. And you've finally met Daphne Greengrass too! Isn't she a spot of sunshine? Thank you to everyone who has made this story a real treat to publish so far, your warm words of encouragement are really nice to hear. I hope to see you all in my next chapter!


	5. A Two-Way Street

**CHAPTER 5**

**~A TWO-WAY STREET~**

Neville ended up going back home after receiving his new wand. Both young men had agreed that after Mr. Ollivander's, it was best for Neville to sort himself out and come to terms with everything he had learned. Harry, on the other hand, spent the rest of the day window shopping as discretely as he could. Despite what Neville had said earlier, Harry could feel people staring at him.

Once he'd returned to his room above the apothecary, he began to get ready for bed until an owl he remembered as being Ron's burst in through the window Harry usually kept open for Hedwig.

"Pigwidgeon?" he asked the bird curiously. The tiny owl, having zoomed past Harry and nearly slammed into the wall opposite the window, landed on Harry's desk and looked at him with its large eyes. Harry quickly spotted and relieved the owl of its payload, a set of three letters that grew from their shrunk size as soon as Harry pulled them off the owls foot.

At last, after just over three weeks of not hearing from them, he had letters from Ron, Hermione, and was even surprised to see a letter from Ginny. Seeing a letter from the only female Weasley child reminded him of all the slipped in comments the twins had made about their sister and put Harry on the alert.

He wasn't as dense as Hermione might think him to be, he knew and realized that Ron's sister had some kind of feelings for him. However, he had been sure she'd only been crushing on him, much as he had with Cho Chang last year.

He shook his head. He hadn't even read the letter yet. Who was to say the letter wasn't about next year's Quidditch team? Curse the twins and making him read into things. He decided to work his way up to Ginny's letter and started with her brother's.

_Hey Harry,_

_Fred and George got us your address. Sorry it's been a while since you've heard from either Hermione or me, but trust us, it's not for lack of trying. Things have been barmy here since people found out you weren't at your relatives place. When the twins told everyone they'd seen you and were safe, mum nearly had a party, right before she tried to skin them alive for not bringing you back with them._

_Anyway, Hermione's been driving me mental. Her parents are on some sort of vacation where they get on a boat and sail around the world, and since Hermione's deathly afraid of water (who knew!), she decided to spend the summer with us. She won't stop badgering me about these summer essays. They're not due for another month, but she's still going spare on me about them._

_Fred and George said they managed to let slip that we're not exactly at the Burrow, so I guess I can confirm that bit, but Dumbledore's not letting us say much else about where we are or what we're doing. He was in a right mood when he found out you knew even that much. Sorry 'bout that, mate. I know you hate being out of the loop when it comes to your friends, but just know it's driving me and Hermione just as barmy as it is you._

_What's it like living on Diagon Alley? Fred and George said you're working at a potions store, but they must be pulling my leg on that one. I bet you got a job at Quality Quidditch or something. What's that like? Hope Pig doesn't bother Hedwig too much._

_Ron_

Harry didn't learn much of anything from Ron's letter, not that he'd been expecting to. But it did seem that wherever he was at, he and his family had regular contact with Dumbledore. Harry wondered why Dumbledore kept getting mentioned in proxy with anything concerning himself, but the pattern was starting to make Harry angry and wonder what his headmaster was up to. Trying to shake it off, Harry opened up Hermione's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_What were you thinking!? Everyone around here was a mess when we heard you had never shown up to your relatives. I understand they're not the most pleasant people, but Dumbledore says it's the safest place for you right now. Professor Lupin told us how you refused to listen to him as well. Harry, I know adults haven't been the most reliable people in the past, but out of everyone, Professor's Dumbledore and Lupin should be two people you can trust. But I suppose me yelling your ear off isn't going to solve anything, is it? Just promise me you'll be safe and try not to make any more decisions that might cause Mrs. Weasley to over-cook. I don't think my stomach can take much more._

_I'm not sure if anyone's explained it to you, but I'm staying with the Weasleys this summer. With the return of You-Know-Who, Dumbledore didn't think it would be safe for me to be with my parents longer than strictly necessary. We spent a few days together before Dumbledore got them a nice Mediterranean cruise for the summer. I'm not sure how he pulled that one, nor am I sure I want to know. Ron seems to think I had the option of going with them. I've tried explaining it to him, but he keeps inventing stories on why I don't want to go. Right now his favourite is that the second task traumatized me and I hate water now. While it is true that the second task did scare me a bit, I'm not nearly as 'traumatized' as he believes me to be. You should've seen him at dinner; he made it a point to remind everyone to keep the water pitcher as far away from me as possible. I might've considered it thoughtful if it wasn't so annoying._

_Have you been keeping up with your studies? It's more important than ever that we do well this up coming year, you especially with the tournament having robbed you of much of your education last year. And O.W.L.'s! Harry, if I find out you've been slacking as bad as Ron has, I'll hex you with every spell in our Defence texts until you're able to undo them yourself._

_How have you been sleeping? I don't mean to pry or anything, but with what you went through, I'd imagine anyone wouldn't have pleasant dreams. I know it may be hard or uncomfortable, but you really should talk to someone about it. Ron and I are always here for you if you need us. I know Ron may not be the most eloquent person around, but he really does care about you, Harry, and so do I._

_Life here has been hectic, especially since it seems you're refusing to go back to your relatives place (you really should listen to Dumbledore). Mrs. Weasley keeps us all busy with cleaning, but I think someone has been undoing our work. I don't want to point fingers prematurely, but Ron keeps saying it's the house elf here. If it is, I don't know if I can hold it against him. I mean, I'd be pretty irate at witches and wizards after years of forced servitude myself. Maybe if I free him, he'll be more helpful? I think I'll try leaving out some of the hats and socks I made as part of S.P.E.W. last year._

_Padfoot says 'hi', but he can't write to you himself due to your location and nobody being able to send letters securely via owls anymore. At least, that's what Dumbledore says._

_Make sure to reply using Pigwidgeon, Hedwig won't know how to reach us because of the enchantments around this place. It's really fascinating how it works. I can't wait to ask Professor Flitwick some questions once term starts back up. Remember, Harry, Ron and I are here for you if you want to talk._

_Hermione_

Again, not much news, though he was able to glean a few more things with the information Hermione's letter provided him. The Weasleys certainly didn't own a house elf, so someone else had to be staying with them who did. That meant that in addition to Dumbledore, Remus, Hermione and the Weasleys, another person or possibly family was all in one location. The twins had said something about an Order, hadn't they? Perhaps this Order was quite large after all. It made him wonder what kind of place they were staying at. Apparently it wasn't all that clean if Mrs. Weasley had them cleaning it up.

The mystery behind Hermione's sudden fear of water was also explained, thought he hadn't really taken Ron's word for it if he were being completely honest. Hermione was a lot of things, but having irrational fears didn't seem like something she'd tolerate. Unless, somehow, she found some way to explain them. But then, they wouldn't be all that irrational, would they?

He shook his head and finally began opening the final letter, the one from Ginny.

_Harry,_

_The twins gave me your address and told me I should write to you. What about though is anyone's guess. Maybe Quidditch? But I don't know if I really want to write about Quidditch to you. I mean, you're a brilliant seeker and all, don't get me wrong, but I feel that going back and forth complementing each other on our Quidditch skills would get old fast. So, I'm left once again wondering what to write to you about._

_I guess I'll just ask you something I've always wondered. Do you like who you are? Do you like being Harry Potter? Or do you wish you were someone else?_

_Sometimes I wish I wasn't Ginevra Molly Weasley. I mean, I love my family and I'm thankful for them, but it's nice to fantasize. I'm sure you do, after all. Sometimes I imagine what it might be like if I could've been raised like a 'proper pure-blood'. I certainly don't buy into all the bigoted ideas most of them seem to tote around, but living like a proper lady sometimes strikes my fancy. Other times, I'll imagine myself to be a famous witch from some bygone era, like Morgan le Fay._

_I was just wondering if it's something almost opposite with you. Sometimes it seems like you forget, but I'm sure you're acutely aware of all the attention on you. I wonder if you ever imagine what it would be like to be 'normal', to be someone who the papers wouldn't write about even if their best story was about a fly that had died. It's hard for someone as normal as me to think anyone would want the kind of life I lead, but I guess that's why I'm asking._

_Anyway, I'm sorry if all this is a bit weird. I know I'm not exactly talkative when we're around each other, and that's mostly my fault. _

_Alright completely my fault. But maybe talking to you this way will help? You don't even have to reply, really. I think just writing this letter has helped me a lot. In fact, if you'd like, you can just burn this letter and pretend you had never even seen it. Same with any other letters you get from me._

_Um, I not really sure how to sign off on this, so, I guess I'll just finish with thanks. Thanks for a lot of things, the least of them being taking some time to read this horribly written letter._

_Ginny_

That was… unexpected. Then again, could something be unexpected if you had no expectations in the first place? Well, Harry mused, that wasn't completely true. With the foreshadowing the twins had been doing during their lunch together a few days ago, he would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting some kind of confessional letter from the youngest female Weasley. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or concerned that the letter he got instead was in some ways more intimate than a confession.

He looked outside, trying to gauge the lateness of the evening by the dark shadows and sky just out his window. Turning his gaze to Pigwidgeon, who stared right back at him with his large excited eyes, he decided to get the reply letters out of the way that evening otherwise who knew how long he'd procrastinate.

Very late that evening, Harry finally went to bed after giving Ron's small owl three letters to deliver back at whatever secret base the Order, whoever and whatever they were, operated out of.

The next morning, as Hedwig cuffed him awake, he shook off a strange dream that had something to do with him and Ron saving Hermione from a sinking ship, all the while Hermione had been saying she wasn't afraid of her inevitable watery grave. Ginny had been there too, though she had been some powerful and fancy female witch that was buying them time by slowing down the sinking of the ship. Harry decided he would stop reading his friends letters so late in the night, even if the strange dream had been better than his usual nightmares, and dug into the breakfast that Hinkey brought in.

He had been working by himself down in the shop a little longer than what was normal and was beginning to wonder where his boss was when the man finally came in carrying a large crate of books.

"Good morning, sir," Harry said as he instinctively came towards Mr. Greengrass to help with the books.

"Ah, Harry, good morning. Sorry I'm a little late today, but as you can see, I got a bit side-tracked."

Harry waved off the apology and looked curiously at the books Mr. Greengrass had been carrying.

"Some new stock, sir?" He eyed the titles of some of the books, 'C_uring the Un-Cureable: A Guide to Magical Healing of Magical Wounds_', '_Invisible Wounds: Mending Internal Injury Without Causing Further Harm_', and '_Seven Signs of Magical Exhaustion And its Treatment_.'

"I suppose you could say that," Mr. Greengrass said with a smile before he looked down at the books himself.

"Back during my school days, Hogwarts had a great many more professors and classes than it does today. Ever wondered why there were all those empty classrooms?"

Harry silently nodded his head in the affirmative. He had always wondered if the empty rooms had at one point been used, and if so, what for. He began to find himself wondering what had caused Hogwarts to loose so many professors. Was it anything like the Defence Against the Dark Arts post?

"Well," Mr Greengrass continued, breaking his train of thought, "it used to be our schooling was much more… wholesome, I suppose. We learned about many more facets of magic. One subject I found myself drawn to was healing magic. It used to be that there was quite the curriculum for it back at Hogwarts. These are my old school books." Mr. Greengrass looked down at the pile of books in the crate he'd been carrying and scowled lightly. "Emphasis on old," he muttered to himself.

"Do you plan on selling them, sir?"

"No," Mr. Greengrass said, breaking himself out of his staring, "no, I planed on loaning them out. As I had been saying earlier, Hogwarts has lost quite a few courses and one I think they should've kept was a basic magical healing course. I'm sure other subjects try to teach the fundamentals, but it just seems irresponsible to me that new Hogwarts graduates will have to go to St. Mungo's for anything more serious than a paper-cut. So, I'm doing my share and putting these books out into public circulation. Old as they may be, they're still relevant."

Harry began going through the books in the crate, some of the titles nearly making him laugh, but stopped curiously when he found a book that didn't quite look like it belonged with the rest of the medical texts.

"What about this book, sir?"

He pulled out a book that didn't have a title or single identifying mark on it, just a deep blue leather cover. Mr. Greengrass gave the book a once over before focusing on him.

"Let me tell you something, Harry," Mr. Greengrass began as he leaned on the table he'd set the book crate on. "There are thousands of books out there claiming they've figured out the way magic works. And they're all different. Everything from magical cores inside each of us, to nodes that are spread throughout nature, some even claiming magic's a living entity."

"Which one is it?" Harry asked anxiously, hoping to get a step closer to understanding something that he'd wondered about since being told he was a wizard.

"None of those," Mr. Greengrass said with a small grin as Harry frowned. "Or maybe all of them," Mr. Greengrass added, his grin only growing as a confused scowl crossed Harry's face. "No one knows for sure how magic works, and quite honestly, I believe it a fool's errand to learn how it does. But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't try and learn how to use it better, does it?"

"How can I learn how to use something better if I don't understand how it works?" Harry asked before Mr. Greengrass began to smile in a way that made him feel like he was about to look like he'd asked something very stupid.

"Tell me, Harry, can you cast the levitation charm? Could you do it right here and now if you didn't need to worry about The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-age Sorcery?"

"Well, sure-"

"Do it."

"… I'm sorry, what?"

"Do it," Mr. Greengrass repeated, a smile growing upon his amused face. "Cast the levitation charm on this crate of books."

"But what about The Dec-"

"Don't worry about that mouthful," Mr. Greengrass waved off as if he were trying to get rid of a foul smell. "How do you think Mr. Ollivander manages to get children their wands without them receiving a letter from the Ministry?"

"… A permit?" Harry guessed lamely.

"A permit!" Mr. Greengrass laughed. "A good guess, but no. You see, the Ministry can't 'trace' a spell to you. Aurors may wish they could, but the best the Ministry can do is monitor areas for magic. Places like here, Diagon Alley, where there is magic happening left and right, make it nearly impossible to pin-point who is doing what magic. So, when a child performs a small feat of magic over at Ollivander's, it' hardly registers to the Ministry."

"But," Harry began, seeing the implications of such a system, "in an area full of nothing but muggle's, even a small amount of magic would be picked up."

"Correct," Mr. Greengrass said nodding.

"That explains why I got blamed for Dobby's magic, then," Harry muttered to himself.

"Dobby?" Mr. Greengrass asked with a frown. "Why did you get blamed for magic performed by the Malfoy's house elf?"

"It's a long story," Harry tried waving off, "the short version is that Dobby levitated a cake over some of my relatives house-guests and the Ministry, and my relatives for that matter, blamed me." Mr. Greengrass looked like he wanted the long version, but moved on regardless.

"Well, I guess in that situation, yes, it explains why you got blamed for the house elf's magic. But I fear we're getting away from the point of the matter. As I was saying, in places where magic is expected to be performed, under aged witches and wizards can perform simple spells and not be caught. It falls on their parents or guardians to try and reign them in. Some are better than others at doing that..." Mr. Greengrass admitted tellingly. "So, perform a levitating charm on this crate."

Harry looked long and hard into Mr. Greengrass' eyes. He'd already gotten a few letters from the Ministry regarding his use of magic. He didn't want to get another unnecessarily. However, Mr. Greengrass had never done anything in the past that would suggest he was lying now. Before he could loose his nerve, he pulled his wand out and cast at the crate, making it levitate a couple inches above the table.

"Excellent," Mr. Greengrass said with a large smile. "Now, coming full circle, how difficult was it to cast that charm?"

"Pretty easy, actually," Harry said with his own smile. Performing magic always managed to improve his mood, not that he'd been in a particularly bad one before.

"But I bet the first time you cast it, it was a bit more difficult?"

"You could say that," Harry said, remembering how everyone in his year had particular difficulties trying to cast the spell with Professor Flitwick.

"So, you've improved your levitation charm without knowing how magic works, haven't you?" Mr. Greengrass concluded.

"But what's all that got to do with this book?" Harry asked, cancelling his charm and holding up the book again.

"That book," Mr. Greengrass began, giving a meaningful look at the book in Harry's hand, "is meant to take what it's naturally taken you four years to achieve with the levitation charm and apply it to every spell you know and will learn. There's steps you can take to familiarize yourself with your magic and how you cast it. While there may not be a single universal way to understand or use magic, that book helps you learn how _you_ understand and use magic."

"Why wouldn't this be standard reading?" Harry flipped through the book interestedly.

"In all honesty, it probably 'fell through the cracks', as they say," Mr. Greengrass said with a shrug. "I only picked that book up as part of the course list for my medical classes in the first place. The reasoning was if you can know and recognize your own magic, it'll be easier to recognize magic that isn't yours. Recognizing individual people's magic is very useful in curse removal, which was what the course had focused on. Regardless, if you're interested, you can be the first one to be loaned that book."

"Thank you," Harry said as he finished flipping through the pages of the book. Once he'd put the book somewhere it wouldn't be damaged or lost while he worked, he continued helping Mr. Greengrass with the chores around the store, now making use of liberal amounts of simple charms and spells upon the condition he use mundane methods in front of customers. As Harry worked his magic, however, he began to notice, now more than ever, the distinct lack of wand-work Mr. Greengrass performed. In fact, as he tried to remember one spell Mr. Greengrass had done, he came up empty.

"Sir?" he asked after he'd managed to get three cauldron's levitated and moved to the front of the store in the time it had taken him to move one before.

"Yes?" Mr. Greengrass answered as he finished shelving the last book he'd brought with him right behind where he usually stood during the day.

"Why don't you use magic around the shop?" Harry finished polishing off a spot of dirt from one of the cauldron's he had just moved. There was a pause of silence and for a moment, Harry was concerned he'd just done something stupid yet again. He turned around to apologize to Mr. Greengrass, but stopped short at the hard look the man was giving him.

"So, Benjamin didn't tell you," the man said after a long moment.

"Tell me what, exactly, sir?" Harry asked confusedly and with a small amount of apprehension.

"The family secret, I suppose," Mr. Greengrass said with a forced smile and sigh.

"Should he have told me your family secret, sir?"

"No, I suppose he shouldn't have, I had just assumed that… never mind," the man said tiredly. "What do you know about blood curses, Harry?"

There was that word again. First blood wards, now blood curses. Hadn't Fred and George said that blood magic was supposed to be rare and taboo? Or perhaps, Harry thought morbidly, weird and taboo was just something that occurred regularly whenever Harry Potter was involved.

"Not much, sir," Harry replied. "I've heard that any magic with the word blood in it is generally considered 'dark' by the ministry, though."

"Dark, evil, powerful," Mr. Greengrass sighed. "Blood magic has been called every name in the book, but the one wizards often forget to call it is ancient. It's the oldest magic known to us, and with that age comes its much lauded power.

"The Greengrass family line goes back a very long ways, Harry, much like I would imagine your own family line does," Mr. Greengrass began, looking older than Harry was used to seeing him. "I'm not sure _how_ far back your own family goes, but part of being raised a Greengrass is learning our pedigree. Originally, we came from the continent, part of a group of people known as the Goths, but that means very little in the grand scheme of things. The only reason I even mention it is because the Goths were known for their practice of blood magic well after the popularized use of wands. It was also during that period of our family's history, that we were cursed with a blood curse.

"The exact reason for the curse has been lost through the generations, only the general story that our family had committed a great wrong against another allowing the curse to be cast remains. Since those ancient times, every eligible male heir in our family has gradually lost their connection to magic, being little more than a squib by the time they reach majority."

The shop remained silent for a long few moments as Harry tried to process what Mr. Greengrass had told him.

"Is there a cure? A counter curse?" Harry finally asked.

Mr. Greengrass gave a cold, mirthless chuckle before answering.

"Why do you think I work at an apothecary? Why do you think I tried specializing in healing magic back when I could actually do a bit of it?" Mr. Greengrass let out a large sigh. "I guess to answer you original question, Harry, the reason I don't do magic around the shop is because I can't."

The shop was once again silent for a long time. Not knowing what else to do, knowing all too well that empty platitudes weren't worth the air they took to say, Harry tried returning to the work he'd decided he'd finish up today, all the while his thoughts jumping back to the book Mr. Greengrass had loaned out to him and the Greengrass' blood curse. Why had Mr. Greengrass told him as much as he had? He would've readily accepted any answer he'd been given, so why had Mr. Greengrass told him something that was most likely- no, was most definitely, a family secret?

He shot Mr. Greengrass a glance as he worked at restocking some more of the ingredients that lined the shelves of the apothecary. The large man looked exactly like he normally did, as if he hadn't revealed he was essentially a squib, that his grandson who hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet was destined to be the same. Did all families have similar secrets? Were the Weasleys hiding something just as potentially damaging from everyone?

When Harry took his lunch, Mr. Greengrass treated him just as he had for the last three weeks, so he assumed the man didn't hold his insensitive question against him. But he couldn't shake the feeling that their relationship had somehow changed. Mr. Greengrass had trusted him with something huge. In fact, he had trouble thinking of another adult who had so willingly and voluntarily offered up such a large secret. Even Remus, one of the few adults Harry considered a friend, hadn't told him about his lycanthropy until it was basically taking place in front of him.

_Harry, I know adults haven't been the most reliable people in the past, but out of everyone, Professor's Dumbledore and Lupin should be two people you can trust._

Trust.

Hermione's words in her letter came back to him profoundly at that moment, the phrase echoing in the void his spiraling thoughts had created. His female friend had struck the proverbial nail on the head when she had said adults hadn't been the most reliable people in his past. But were Professor Dumbledore and Remus people he could trust now?

Mr. Greengrass trusted him, he countered, as he began to argue with himself. The apothecary owner hadn't asked for a vow or oath, he just trusted him to keep the information private. Did that mean he could trust Mr. Greengrass in return? Possibly more than the headmaster or his former Defence teacher?

He pondered the question all during lunch. He thought about it as he weaved through the crowds returning to the apothecary. He contemplated it as he absent-mindedly went about his restocking routine for the shop. And finally, just as Mr. Greengrass was finishing up the end of day inventories, Harry reached a conclusion.

"The only family I have left hates magic," Harry suddenly blurted out, catching Mr. Greengrass and himself off guard and causing the shop to descend into silence.

"The relatives that raised me," Harry continued, not wanting to stop too long and lose his nerve, "they're muggles who wish for nothing more than to be the most muggle muggles who've ever existed. Me being dropped off at their doorstep was probably the worst thing that could happen in their book. They thought they could… punish the magic out of me. Turn me from a freak into something useful to society."

Mr. Greengrass remained silent and standing by the door he'd been about to leave from.

"This summer, I decided I didn't want to go back to them. And this summer has been the best summer of my life." He looked up at Mr. Greengrass and was glad to see there wasn't any pity in the man's eyes, just the same collected look Harry had come to expect from the man. Finally after a few moments of looking at each other, Mr. Greengrass spoke.

"You didn't have to tell me that, you know," Mr. Greengrass said calmly. "I didn't tell you about why I couldn't do magic to get that out of you."

"I know," Harry replied quickly, "I know. But I also know you had to trust me to tell me what you did. This is me telling you I trust you as well." The room was silent as the two men regarded each other.

"Harry Potter," Mr. Greengrass finally started, "you are probably the most mature fifteen year old I have ever met."

Harry couldn't stop the small snort of amusement that left him.

"If only that door thought so too…" he muttered.

"What was that?" Mr. Greengrass asked confusedly.

"Nothing," Harry quickly waved off. "Thank you, Mr. Greengrass, it means a lot that you think so highly of me. For what it's worth, you're probably the most helpful adult I've ever met."

And he meant it. Having given Harry a summer room away from the Dursleys', hearty food in the mornings, wages for the labour he performed, lessons on brewing he'd been lacking, knowledge about magical medicine, and many other things, Mr. Greengrass had done more for Harry than he could knowingly attribute to his godfather or even Dumbledore himself. Mr. Greengrass raised an eyebrow at him, but nothing more, and after another moment of silence, the man took a deep breath and spoke.

"I'll see you in the morning, Harry. Don't stay up too late reading that book, alright? Tomorrow is shaping up to busy, so you'll need your wits about you."

"Yes sir."

The corners of Mr. Greengrass mouth twitch upwards an iota before he gave a solid nod and finally walked out of the shop.

**AN**: The secret comes out. Tell me honestly, did anyone see that coming? I think I dropped a couple hints with Mr. Greengrass never performing any kind of magic. And letters from Harry's friends. Some of you seem to not have very high opinions of them. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed that little reveal of a chapter. I hope to see you all in the next one!

**PS**: Long weekends are the best!


	6. Destination, Determination, And-

**CHAPTER 6**

**~DESTINATION, DETERMINATION, AND…~**

"Hadn't it rained earlier this summer?" Harry heard a woman ask their neighbour as he was eating at the Leaky Cauldron during his lunch break.

"What happened to that water?" she asked with a whine, not waiting for a reply. "This heat has been unbearable!"

"I swear," her companion finally said, sounding as if he had just finished swallowing something that had prevented him from answering earlier. "Someone would think _you're_ the muggle-born with the way you complain about things that are fixed so easily with a simple charm."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" the woman said hotly.

"Nothing," her partner said with a sigh, as if this kind of exchange was a regular occurrence. "Just use a cooling charm and you'll be able to wear even a sweater in this weather if you wanted."

"I knew that," the woman said, though she sounded a little put out for whatever reason. "I'm just… I was trying to make a conversation, is all."

"Oh," was the delayed response of the man with her. Harry felt even his cheeks flush a little at the awkward atmosphere that suddenly radiated from where the two were hidden away.

"Well," the man said, his voice dropping to a tone that made Harry wish they would put up some privacy spells or something, "perhaps we can have a conversation somewhere a bit more… private."

Honestly.

Harry wondered what it was about dating that made people turn into such horribly awkward creatures. And what made him balk even more was that the people engaging in such strange behaviour often found it somehow endearing, or worse, arousing. The young couple seemed to have enough sense to pay their bill, leaving the establishment much closer to each other than what was publicly decent. Having now lost most his appetite, Harry made sure to zero out his own tab and left the bar, giving Tom a friendly wave on his way out.

The woman had been right about the heat at least, today was supposed to be the hottest day of the summer all across Britain, and if he hadn't applied the appropriate charms to himself earlier, he'd probably be complaining to someone like the woman had. Mr. Greengrass had taught him a couple of simple cooling charms earlier in the week once he'd learned just how hot it was supposed to get, citing his instruction on the charms as proper employee care.

After learning the simple spells, Harry offered to perform them on both himself and Mr. Greengrass as well. However, while he had appreciated the gesture, Mr. Greengrass pointed out he had been taking care of himself for a long time now without having the ability to use such easy charms and had all his clothes pre-enchanted for perfect climate control no matter the weather, something Harry thought asking Madam Malkin about the next time he went to get his school robes.

In addition to the cooling charms, Mr. Greengrass had made sure that Harry continued to use small spells and charms while working around the shop. At first, Harry had been hesitant, feeling as if casting in front of the man was a kind of insult or reminder of what he couldn't do any more. However, after a stern talk from Mr. Greengrass, the small shop was filled with Harry's casting.

In addition to his wand work, Mr. Greengrass also pushed him on his progress with the book he'd been reading. With the surprisingly intriguing book being very easy to read and an employer who pushed him to use his magic regularly, Ministry laws be damned, he found himself quickly getting to the point where he could cast his most familiar charms and spells with virtually no effort and barely mumbled incantations.

But Mr. Greengrass wasn't content with that either. His employer, after hearing from his grand-daughter that Harry was usually a terrible brewer, ensured he didn't fall behind on his potions work by having him whip up a potion whenever his stock fell below satisfactory levels. Additionally, with all the potions ingredients that the apothecary carried, Harry was starting to see why students were required to take so many years of Herbology. Even Care of Magical Creatures was showing some of its usefulness when he could recall some of the strange properties certain creatures possessed due to Hagrid's tireless efforts to acquaint his students with wildlife.

"Have a good lunch?" Mr. Greengrass asked Harry as he walked back into the shop.

"I was, until a couple of lovebirds started fouling up the place," Harry replied moodily, immediately casting a simple animation charm on some rags to try and distract his brain from the lovey-dovey couple he'd bore witness to. Mr. Greengrass just gave an amused chuckle and continued to work on his business ledgers.

As the two settled into their usual quiet routine, Harry's mind began to drift to his course work. He'd finished nearly all of it, something he'd never really been able to do while he had stayed with the Dursleys, and only the arduous essay that Professor Snape had assigned this summer remained. So far, every summer assignment that had been issued by Snape had earned him a deplorable grade. Even Hermione was known to complain about the difficulty of Snape's summer assignment.

But this year would be different. Harry wanted to earn a mark that would make the Professor's face contort until it looked like he'd drank a whole vat of lemon juice. And the best part about his plan was that he knew he could do it. Daphne had been proof enough that everyone expected him to be a failure at the art of brewing. But, his work with brewing up potions for Mr. Greengrass had familiarized him with concepts that he was going to make sure would come up in the essay he was writing up for Professor Snape.

On top of that, he was beginning to learn that there were some potions that allowed for improvising. Mr. Greengrass had told Harry to check with him before trying anything, but so far, every time Harry had proposed a change or modification, his employer had allowed it. He'd even successfully made Snifflumus' Snot-Reducer taste like strawberries, something Mr. Greengrass had made sure to capitalize on to move extra product. Harry was still trying to come up with a discrete way to let Ben know the good news.

The sun was just beginning to set when the quiet shop was disrupted by the door's bell ringing. Harry quickly cancelled the animation charm he'd put on a couple of rags around him that were now polishing glass jars with a barely muttered finite and smiled to himself as the rags fell to the floor. The book he'd been reading was certainly one of the most helpful he'd ever picked up. Nearly every spell Harry used regularly at the shop he'd simplified down to small flicks of his wand and softly muttered incantations.

The smile that he'd gotten from his small success, however, was quickly wiped away when he heard the new customer speak to Mr. Greengrass.

"Good evening," a slow, drawled out voice said, striking a combination of fear and hatred into Harry's mind. Unlike the distant and detached anger he had lately been feeling whenever Dumbledore was brought up, this hate was close and intense, immediately causing Harry's shoulders to tense up.

"Good evening to you as well, Professor Snape," Mr. Greengrass returned respectfully.

Slowly and silently, Harry stepped out from behind the shelves he'd been working behind.

"Is there anything I can do for you this evening?" Mr. Greengrass asked, his eyes not betraying Harry's position as he silently watched.

"As it just so happens," Snape began, his voice making Harry's skin crawl, "I require a very particular… entity, from your shop."

"Oh?" Mr. Greengrass asked, still not breaking his level stare with the potions professor. "An entity, you say?" Snape suddenly huffed, as if annoyed.

"I'm here for Potter," Snape said lowly and with a hint of sneer that always laced his voice whenever Harry's surname left his lips. "I have heard… rumours he works here. For you."

"What would you need an entity such as Harry Potter for?" Mr. Greengrass asked perfectly innocently, a small smile crossing his face that Harry had seen on Fred and Georges faces enough times to know that Mr. Greengrass was currently feeling a bit mischievous. Harry couldn't believe his eyes or ears as his employer leaned closer to the Potions Professor and whispered in a conspiratorial low voice, "Not planning some dark ritual with the boy, are we?"

Harry had to very nearly bite himself to keep from snorting in amusement as Snape's countenance darkened exponentially.

"Mr. Greengrass," Snape said lowly and in a dangerous tone that Harry would be very frightened of if it were directed at him, "your station had led me to believe that such antics are below you. I hardly think now is the time for jests. The boy's life is in danger the longer he stays here."

The atmosphere began to cool as Mr. Greengrass' eyes slowly shifted from a playful mischievousness to a much more serious and stern expression. The apothecary owner and the potions master both straightened their stances and sized each other up, a tense energy beginning to build between them.

"Are you implying, Severus, that I'm not capable of protecting the boy? Or, even if you were committed to thinking such a ludicrous folly, that the boy isn't capable of protecting himself?"

Snape's lip curled sharply, as if he smelt something particularly wretched.

"Even Dumbledore's skills have waned with age, Zacharias," Snape growled. "As for the boy, his skills, or rather lack-there-of, are frequently over-exaggerated."

"I see your tenure as a Professor has done little to open your eyes to truths right before you," Mr. Greengrass bit back. "For a fifteen year old boy, Harry Potter has been remarkably competent and self-sufficient."

Despite the warm glow Harry suddenly felt in his chest, the air around him continued to turn frigid. But Harry couldn't pull his eyes away from the two men even if a storm were to suddenly begin inside the small apothecary.

"What you may think the Potter boy capable of has little bearing on the fact that he _will_ be leaving here with _me_ tonight," Snape informed Mr. Greengrass, finishing with a huff that was actually visible in the cooling air.

Seeing his own breath, Snape seemed to suddenly become aware of the rapid temperature change.

"… Are you doing this?" he asked Mr. Greengrass hotly. However, the stern look Mr. Greengrass had been growing though Snape's response was replaced now by a concerned scowl.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," the man replied, causing Harry's potions professor to scowl. In the silence after their argument, a soft and quiet cracking noise began to crescendo from the store front, building slowly in volume until it was the solitary sound permeating the room. Slowly, all three occupants of the apothecary looked towards the shop windows. They were quickly concealing the view of the street with frost, but before the view of Diagon Alley became completely obscured, Harry saw something that haunted his dreams when visions of Voldemort and Cedric took a break.

"Dementors," Mr. Greengrass murmured darkly, just as the last pane of glass became frosted over.

"Potter!" Snape said as he turned around, finally spotting Harry.

Before he knew what was happening, Snape was suddenly at his side and roughly grabbing his wrist before a sensation he knew only because he'd experienced something similar with George overcame him.

The next moment, he was on his knees gasping and retching the lunch he'd eaten earlier. However, the bone numbing cold that had crept up on him in the apothecary remained. Even the fresh pile of vomit he'd just created began to freeze up.

"No," he heard Snape mutter from beside him. "No, they can't be here too!" Harry was not used to hearing such despair from his usually stoic professor. He immediately knew that whatever was happening could not bode well for either of them, and when he looked up, he at once knew he was right.

He and his Professor were now in the park that was at the end of Magnolia Road, near where Harry would usually spend his summers in Little Whinging, but they weren't the only two there. Lying around the park were members of Dudley's gang, boy's Harry remembered as wilful participants in Harry Hunts. Now, however, they were quite still and had horribly blank gazes that chilled Harry even more than the biting air.

"HELP!" a high, frightened voice screamed, piercing the eerie quiet and pulling the two wizards from their morbid stares. Whipping around, Harry saw a group of three Dementors huddled around someone on the ground; their victim concealed by their long black and ripped robes that covered their skeletal features.

"Quickly, Potter, we must leave!" Snape said frantically, reaching for Harry's arm again.

Harry was quick enough this time and dodged the slimy, tallow hand of his most loathed Professor.

"What about them?" Harry asked quickly, stepping back from the man as he lunged at him again.

"_What_ about them, Potter?" Snape snapped back coldly. "Better for us to escape _now_ and-"

"Sod that!" Harry yelled back, making a final move away from his Professor and pulling out his wand.

"Potter! Put that away!" Snape hollered back as he dove at Harry once again. But Harry was too quick for the potions master and ducked away a final time. Harry turned to face the group of Dementors again but found his confidence quickly fading as two of the three dark creatures noticed their new guests and soared over to properly greet them.

"FOOL!" Snape snarled from behind him before he disappeared with an echoing snap. Harry was momentarily stunned that Snape had ran off, but quickly refocused on the task at hand, closing his eyes and summoning up his most pleasant thoughts and dreams, allowing the emotions to course through him and build until he was holding back a flood of happiness in the face of the encroaching despair.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he shouted, opening his eyes to find that the two Dementors were practically right in front of him.

He felt his hair whip back as his Patronus materialized in front of him, the silvery ethereal stag instantly warming his fingers and face as it charged the two Dementors, not stopping until it had repulsed them and the third Dementor away. Prongs lingered as Harry rushed forward towards the person on the ground, surprised to find his cousin Dudley shaking with thick, pearly tears in his eyes.

"H-h-harry?" Dudley managed to say between his convulsions. Harry nodded in dumb shock before he snapped back to it and tried to heft his cousin up. Prong's lingered a moment longer, watching the two before he vanished.

"Come on, Dudders," Harry tried, hoping that taunting his cousin might somehow get him to start moving under his own power, "what would your mother say about this?" However, Dudley seemed to be quite out of it, his only reply to Harry's weak taunts were his continued frightened whimpers that made Harry feel like quite the bully, a feeling was quickly finding he despised.

Harry did his level best to try and lug Dudley back towards the house he'd managed to avoid all this summer, but it was tough work and he'd barely managed to get out of the park. Despite the muscle mass he'd built working for Mr. Greengrass, he still had trouble moving his large cousin around.

Mr. Greengrass!

Harry suddenly felt himself go cold with fright for his employer. Snape had left the man on his own without knowing he couldn't perform a lick of magic to defend himself!

"Harry?" an old voice Harry recognized as Mrs. Figg's called out.

"Help him get back!" Harry yelled at the batty woman, none too gently dropping his cousin to the ground.

"What? Where- Oh, my! Are those bodies? Harry, where are you-"

But Harry wasn't paying any mind to the rambling questions the old neighbour with too many cats was asking him. He needed to get to Mr. Greengrass, and quickly.

No one in Little Whinging would have a Floo connection, and even if they did, the apothecary didn't. Mr. Greengrass always walked into work every morning from the Leaky Cauldron. The Knight Bus was similarly out of the question, it wouldn't get him there nearly fast enough. Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down as he closed his eyes and concentrated.

The three D's. That's what Fred had said.

What were the three D's, again?

He'd only apparated a few times, and it had only been when other people had been doing the actual apparating. However, he felt he knew the sensation well. Destination. That was one of the D's. Harry concentrated intently on the main room of the apothecary, the shelves and the door and the windows, he even tried to recall the smell of the place hoping it would help. He began to feel a strange pull, very faintly, right behind his navel. Determination. He was sure that was another one of them. Taking the pull as a good sign, Harry squinted and focused even harder, trying to recall every last detail he could about the place.

"Harry?" Mrs. Figg called out from behind Harry, breaking his concentration suddenly and causing him to turn around. However, just as he twisted his body to face the woman, he felt himself squeezed through an entirely too tight of a tube, the sides of which seemed to pull at him uncomfortably. He couldn't breathe or yell out and just as he felt he'd die of suffocation, he landed roughly on the wooden floor of the apothecary.

Immediately, an unnatural cold washed over Harry and he struggled to pick himself back off the floor, noticing distractedly that his left hand seemed to be missing a few fingers and his right foot felt very strange and wet. Quickly, Harry conjured up his strongest positive emotions without even looking to see if there were Dementors close by, not wanting to take chances with just how dangerous of a situation he'd just put himself into.

"_Escthectoho Pathronome!_" Harry yelled, startling himself when he noticed that quite a few of his teeth weren't in his mouth any longer. Regardless, Prongs faithfully heeded his call and sprang out of his wand, glancing around the shop and suddenly charging towards a corner. Harry didn't bother to watch, instinctually trusting his Patronus and knowing it was capable of doing what was needed. Though he was a bit concerned about his hand and foot, he began to look around for Mr. Greengrass.

Harry limped around the shop as best he could with his strange feeling foot, but wasn't finding anything which was starting to make him worried. Prongs suddenly returned and looked at him urgently. Understanding, Harry motioned at his Patronus to lead on and was led to a back door that had been frozen and shattered if the small pieces of thawing wood were any indication.

"Thir?" Harry tried calling out, tasting blood that was coming from his empty tooth sockets. There was no answer and Prongs waited impatiently just beyond the door. Harry limped into the back room of the shop and found Mr. Greengrass lying on the floor, unmoving.

"Geth helph!" Harry said urgently to his Patronus, hoping it could actually do such a thing. In response, the silvery stag gave a single nod to Harry and bounded off through a wall. Harry quickly kneeled down next to Mr. Greengrass and cast the simplest health related charm he knew from reading an introductory book Mr. Greengrass had brought in with him a week ago.

Harry felt an immeasurable amount of relief at finding Mr. Greengrass was still alive, but his charm did little more than confirm that. Had the Demontors gotten his soul?

A chorus of snaps, cracks and pops suddenly came from just outside the shop. Not a moment later, the shops enchanted door chimed and Harry heard pounding feet on wooden floorboards.

"Harry?!" the voice of Professor Lupin called out. "Harry, where are you?"

"Do you really think he's here?" Mrs. Weasley asked right after Remus had called out, her voice tearful and frantic.

"I'm sure of it," the werewolf replied, confidence in his voice. "It was his Patronus- Harry!" The man said loudly as he spotted Harry from the other room.

"Kwicth!" Harry called out to the adults who were still streaming into the shop, some of them Harry didn't even recognize. "Weth goth tho helph hem!"

"Harry! Your hand!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, coming into the room with Professor Lupin and the other witches and wizards Harry didn't know.

"He'z alith," Harry told Remus, "buth-"

"We'll help him, Harry," Professor Lupin interrupted, looking imploringly into Harry's eyes. "But let us help you too."

Harry nodded, though he continued to look over his former professor's shoulder to see what the other wizards were doing.

"This way, dear," Mrs. Weasley urged gently, being mindful of Harry's mangled hand. Once they were outside the apothecary, Mrs. Weasley reached into her robes and pulled out a twig which she promptly snapped. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore appeared.

"Well done, Molly," the man said as he swiftly stepped up to Harry, swishing his wand at him and muttering quickly. Harry wasn't entirely sure if it was because of the fading adrenalin or something else, but he began to feel an intense headache.

"Remarkable job with your first apparition, Harry, though in the future perhaps you should work on taking all of yourself with you. It seems you left quite a bit behind with Mrs. Figg and your cousin."

Harry wasn't sure why, but the headmaster's words grated on him more than he thought they should. But before he could unload on the Headmaster for his tasteless remark or the long silence he'd seemed to impose on him, the developing headache intensified a hundred fold. Rightly taking Harry's grimace as one of pain, Dumbledore spoke up again.

"Let's get him to St. Mungo's, Molly"

Harry was taken to the magical hospital quickly, though he hated the fact that he had to go through the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron to get there. He wasn't up for another apparition and a Portkey was out of the question. As Harry's adrenalin further wore off, he began to feel the true extent of his injuries and was glad that he didn't have to deal with Madam Pomfrey scolding his ears off for his recklessness.

"What you did was very reckless, Harry," Professor Lupin said almost as soon as the staff at the hospital allowed people to come in and talk to Harry again. Harry clenched his fists in frustration and anger, looking up at his Professor unbelievingly.

"What was I supposed to do?!" Harry yelled back, failing to reign in his temper and causing one of the mediwitches just outside the room to look in with a stern scowl. Harry was too angry and frustrated to care and returned the glare with an annoyed expression, but Professor Lupin gave the woman his best apologetic smile.

"He just left Mr. Greengrass there, alone," Harry said hotly once the witch ducked back out. Remus looked at him as if he were about to say something so Harry tried defending himself again pre-emptively. "When we arrived at Little Whinging, we ran into more of them, the Dementors."

"But they were only supposed to-" Remus began before he quickly cut himself off, looking incredibly guilty as Harry looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"YOU KNEW?!"

"Sir," the mediwitch just outside the door warned sternly, coming back into the frame of the door.

"Harry, get a hold of yourself and calm down," Remus said sternly, making Harry shrink back a bit at the unfamiliar steel in the man's voice. "You must let me explain."

It was very difficult for Harry to do what was asked of him, but eventually he was calm enough that he felt he wouldn't pull his wand on his Professor any more. The fact his wand was on a table far from his reach helped immensely.

"Explain," Harry demanded before Remus raised an eye at Harry's tone. "Please," he hastily added. "Why has Dumbledore been so desperate to get me away from Diagon Alley? Why didn't anyone tell me, or even Mr. Greengrass, about the attack before it happened?"

Remus looked at him with conflict in his eyes. He glanced back at the door, where the mediwitch still stood looking in, and discreetly flicked his wand into his hand, mumbling an incantation so softly not even Harry could hear.

"You know that Professor Snape is a spy for us, yes?" Remus finally asked, his voice still barely a whisper over the background noise of the hospital, even after his privacy spells.

Harry remembered the Pensieve memory where Dumbledore had said as much to a full council of witches and wizards when they'd been trying Karkaroff as a Death Eater. He nodded to his former Defence Professor for him to continue.

"Tonight, Professor Snape learned Lord Voldemort would redirect some Dementors on ministry business to Diagon Alley, with the specific task of finding and harming you. He's known you've been there all summer and decided it was time to strike tonight, under the cover of a ministry screw up. Dumbledore saw it as the perfect time and excuse to get you back where he thought you ought to have been since the beginning of the summer and sent Snape, the one person who very well can't refuse any of his orders, to retrieve you."

Again, Dumbledore had sent a proxy to do his bidding. Even with their brief interaction this evening, Harry began to feel like his Headmaster was avoiding him.

"But what about Mr. Greengrass?" Harry asked, "what about Dudley when we had arrived at the park?"

"Mr. Greengrass is an adult wizard, Harry, he can-"

"He's n-" but Harry suddenly stopped himself. He'd been told about Mr. Greengrass' condition in confidence, in trust. Was it his place to tell Remus? "He's not the wizard he used to be," he settled, hoping his former Defence professor wouldn't pry deeper than that. "Besides, Snape just left without offering help, and was about to do the same at the park."

"There's a reason he wasn't sorted into Gryffindor, Harry," Remus said causing Harry to scowl harshly.

"Sir, people almost died because of his cowardice!" Harry whispered harshly, his eyes flicking between his professor and the mediwitch at the door who thankfully hadn't caught his quiet outburst. Professor Lupin seemed to sober at that comment.

"Snape only knew about the attack on Diagon Alley," Remus said after a long pause. "Whoever sent them to the park near where you usually live during the summers most likely doesn't work for Voldemort, but wanted you gone anyway. Right now, our leading theory is that they're someone in the Ministry."

"Why would you think that?" Harry asked curiously, trying to think what he'd ever done to the Minister or anyone who had worked at the large underground bureau.

"This came for you at the Dursleys while we were searching for you there. It seems the Ministry hasn't been paying as close attention to where you've spent your summer as the Dark Lord."

Remus pulled an official looking letter from a pocket in his cloak and handed it to Harry. Instantly, he recognized the letter for what it was, having received a similar missive back in his second year.

"They're trying to remove your influence, Harry, either by having you killed or expelled," Remus said darkly. For a morbid moment, Harry remembered Hermione saying something nearly similar in his first year. After a few moments of Harry simply looking at the letter, Remus spoke up again.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"I know what it is and what it's about. Guess I'll need to ask Mr. Greengrass about something more permanent than a summer job."

"Perhaps hold off on that for the time being," Remus advised. "Dumbledore is pleading your case with more level headed Ministry officials right now; you did nothing wrong. Whatever magic you performed tonight was in defence of others and yourself and there are clauses in the Under-age laws specifically for that."

Harry nodded, but didn't feel particularly reassured. He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts of expulsion and wand snapping by a slight commotion occurring just outside his door.

"Is this his room?" a strong female voice he vaguely remembered asked the witch guarding his door.

"Ma'am, you're not-"

"Let me through or I'll make it so that you'll need to be admitted to your own institution," the woman said sharply before the regal figure of Mrs. Greengrass came into view just outside the door. Mr. Lupin had tensed and readied himself during the exchange, expecting the worse, but relaxed when Harry gestured for him to stand down.

Not seeming to have noticed the potentially dangerous situation she had caused, Mrs. Greengrass rushed into the room, her simple, but somehow still impressive dress fluttering behind her as she essentially tackled Harry with a hug. It was much different than the body engulfing and bone crushing hugs Mrs. Weasley was capable of, but still managed to convey a sense of warm gratitude.

"Thank you," the woman said emotionally, giving Harry another somewhat pleasant squeeze before stepping back and regarding him with moist eyes. "Thank you for saving my father," she repeated, dabbing at her chocolate brown eyes with her hand.

"Is he alright?" Harry asked earnestly, not sure of what else to say. He'd never been in such a situation before, and though it felt nice to be hugged like that, he wasn't sure he wanted to make nights like this one a reoccurring thing.

"He'll recover, is what they're telling me," Mrs. Greengrass managed to say between sniffs. "But at the very least, I know he is alive and still has his soul, thanks to you." Mrs. Greengrass looked him up and down like Mrs. Weasley's usually did whenever he came to their house for the summer. "And you? Are you doing well? I managed to hear you splinched yourself badly but that seems to have been mended."

Harry nodded to the woman, holding up his hand that still had some angry red lines along where his fingers had been cleanly splinched off and then reattached. His flippant attitude about it seemed to relax and calm her further.

"Well then," she spoke after a few more calming moments. "I'll return to my father's side now. But Harry? Do be sure to let us know if there is anything my family may do for you."

"Alright," Harry nodded hesitantly. Mrs. Greengrass nodded once more and, as swiftly as she arrived, disappeared through the corridors of the hospital. After a moment, Harry sighed deeply.

"Now what happens?" he asked Remus, looking over at the werewolf who'd been watching him. Professor Lupin regarded Harry a moment longer before replying.

"You're coming to headquarters."


	7. Ancestral Home

**CHAPTER 7**

**~ANCESTRAL HOME~**

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place certainly lived up to its name, Harry thought. The whole house gave off an aura that made him wonder why an Order that claimed to be dedicated to fighting a Dark Lord stuck around in a house that may as well be Voldemort's very own hideout.

Remus had told him that most of the Order had returned to the place after they had recovered him and Mr. Greengrass. However, when he walked into the house with his former Professor, the building seemed eerily quiet for a house that was supposedly fully inhabited. The only sounds he could hear with certainty was the faint hissing of gas for the lamps that were throwing long, daunting shadows over the dark walls and floors, and a distant conversation taking place somewhere in the house.

"This way," Professor Lupin whispered, seemingly afraid to disrupt the silence in the hallway.

He followed his former professor through the long corridor and to a door that the conversation he'd been hearing earlier clearly originated from. With a small smile, Remus opened the door for Harry, causing the conversation that had been occurring within to halt as he became visible.

Immediately, Harry's eyes gravitated to the dark black and slightly curly hair of his godfather. Seeming to sense Harry's stare, Sirius turned and looked back at Harry, their eyes meeting and immediately lighting up at seeing each other.

"Sirius," Harry said, as he moved quickly towards his godfather who scooted out of his chair and stood to receive him.

"Harry," Sirius said into his hair, giving him a warm hug that nearly made Harry cry with emotion. Being with Mr. Greengrass had been great, but Sirius was as close to family as he was going to get in life. And hugs were something he did not plan on exchanging with his employer.

"Remus, we're in the middle of a meeting," Harry heard Mrs. Weasley harshly scold, trying her best to be quiet for Harry's sake, but nonetheless her voice carried in the near silent house.

"Hush, Molly," Mad-Eye Moody replied in his gruff and gravelly voice. "The boy's earned this much after what he did and has gone through."

Sirius and Harry finally separated, his godfather holding him at an arm's length and looking him over.

"I heard you had splinched yourself pretty good," Sirius said, finishing looking over Harry from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the angry red lines on his fingers where they'd been splinched and reattached. "But it seems they've gone and fixed that, and threw in a couple of inches and pounds as well. You look healthy," his godfather finished.

"Mr. Greengrass is much better at feeding those who work for him than Aunt Petunia," Harry supplied, the smile on his face not quite meeting his eyes at the thought of his relatives. He'd heard that Dudley had made it back well enough, though he couldn't be sure what his relatives thought of him now. Perhaps they blamed the Dementor's visit on him. Perhaps they were right to do so. Sirius' eyes also lost a bit of their warmth at the mention of Harry's relatives.

"Yes, well, you'll find no arguments from me when it comes to your summer job," his godfather whispered to him, sending a side-long glance at Mrs. Weasley who seemed busy trying to cover up some parchment on the table.

"But I hope you realize..." Sirius began, looking a bit pained at what he was saying, "the chances of going back to work there this summer are quite… well-"

"I don't want to go back," Harry reassured quickly, a genuine smile reaching his face. "Not if I get to spend the rest of the summer with you."

Sirius didn't seem to know what else to do than give him another hug. After another moment, they finally separated.

"We're nearly done, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, finally seeing an opportunity to speak. "Why don't you head upstairs and find Ron and Hermione?" Sirius looked as if he very much wanted to say something, to have him stay, to say and explain more, but held his tongue and gave him a look that told him he should follow Mrs. Weasley's suggestion, for now, at least. Harry gave one last glance around the room, recieving and returning some head nods from Mr. Weasley, Bill Weasley, Moody, and Remus.

"See you in a bit, Harry," Sirius said as he left the room, closing the door behind him. The muffled conversation resumed almost as soon as he left, the most prominent voice being Mrs. Weasley's muffled, angry hissing.

He began to climb the only staircase he'd seen, hoping to run into one of his friends. He was treated to the sight of shrunken house-elf heads on his way up the stairs and could've swore he heard muttering from behind a thick set of velvet curtains that were severely moth eaten.

Just what kind of place was this?

On the second floors landing, there were doors to various rooms, and at the far end of the hall, another flight of stairs. Trying each door in hopes of finding his friends didn't sound all to appealing to Harry, especially in a house that gave him the impression it would kill him should he lean on a wall wrong.

"Ron? Hermione?" he called out, but not too loudly. He wasn't sure what it was, but the quietness of the house almost begged him to keep his voice down, and he obliged by keeping his voice to a harsh whisper into the silence. Just as he was about to call out again, he felt something brush against his leg and nearly leapt over the banister and back down to the first level of the house, but the soft mew of Crookshanks stopped him from any hasty jumping.

As he stood in the hall and tried to get his heartbeat back under control, the large cat looked up at him expectantly, as if he were waiting for a reward for good behaviour. Seeing as Harry wasn't going to be giving out such rewards, the cat meowed indignantly and began to walk towards a door with a serpent head doorknob. Acting on a hunch, he walked over to the door and opened it, briefly catching a look at the gloomy room and its two occupants before the occupant with the bushy brown hair flung herself at him.

"HARRY!" Hermione shouted into his chest as she tackled him with a hug that would've floored him if his seeker honed reflexes hadn't told him to brace in time.

His female friend continued to talk incoherently fast into his chest as he sent a grin to Ron, the other occupant who'd been in the room. His best mate quickly returned the grin and put down a quill he'd been writing with. Apparently Hermione was making Ron go through the summer course work he'd obviously put off until now.

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron said as he put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and eased her away from him. "How've you been, mate?"

"About as well as one can be with a name like Harry Potter," he joked back as he and Ron exchanged a manly hug.

"The Dementors!" Hermione said with wide eyes, "and your trial-"

"Trial?" Harry asked confused. "What trial?"

"You mean you don't know?" Hermione asked, her expression growing even more worried if that was even possible. Ron even sent him a concerned glance at his ignorance. "Professor Lupin said he gave you the letter, but…"

Hermione quick glanced to where she and Ron had been sitting, looking for something. Not finding it, her eyes darted over to a night-stand between the two beds and quickly ran and grabbed a newspaper that was there, flipping it over on itself before she handed it to him.

_HARRY POTTER TO BE EXPELLED PENDING MINISTRY TRIAL_

_Apparently not being content to simply monger fear by spouting drivel about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, Harry Potter decided to have a go at one of the oldest laws in Wizarding Society, The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. While our confidential source was unable to provide exact specifics, the Daily Prophet has learned that soon to be fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter, performed complex magic in the presence of muggles._

_Never mind the fact that magic outside the school while under the age of majority is strictly forbidden in the first place, Mr. Potter is reported to have-_

He skipped over the exaggerated recounting of his supposed crimes, unconsciously crumpling the paper he was holding as he continued skimming the article.

_-same source has told us that the ageing and dangerously out of touch Albus Dumbledore, who has recently been removed from his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has come to the boy's defence and claims to have evidence that proves Potter to be in the right with his blatant use of magic in the presence of muggles. This stance is hardly a surprise with Dumbledore's history of supporting muggles and muggle-borns. Through Dumbledore's delaying action, Potter has been given a few more weeks to revel in the chaos he has caused with his latest stunt before he rightfully becomes expelled from the institution he and the Headmaster who defends him so loyally have besmirched._

"Right rubbish, all of it," Ron said, noticing his eyes had stopped moving back and forth.

"Ten Galleons the confidential informant is Draco's father," Harry said after taking a deep calming breath and tossing the newspaper to a bed nearby before listlessly flopping onto the same bed.

Of course there had been nothing about the now soulless muggle boys or even about Dementors. Just Harry Potter being a public menace. Again.

The room was quiet for a moment and he glanced over at his friends, catching the end of a silent conversation that had been had just with their facial expressions.

"What?" he asked, looking at Ron specifically. If either of the two of them was going to say what had just happened, it was him.

"Nothing," Hermione quickly tried to cover, but Ron had already begun to speak.

"It's just-" Ron stopped and looked at Hermione who was giving him a look that was probably giving him flashbacks of his mother. Realizing she seemed to be covering something up now, Hermione looked apologetically over at Harry.

"It's just," she began, using the same words as Ron, "well, usually, in the past at least, when there wasn't a particularly good bit of news about you, or people didn't, um, believe in the truth of the matter-"

"We'd just been expecting you to be a bit more upset," Ron blurted out, just as tired of Hermione's obleque circle as Harry was becoming. For his bluntness, he got a quick elbow in the ribs, but Harry was a little too surprised to react appropriately to his friends misfortunenate injury.

His friends had been nervous to such a level because of how upset they thought he'd be? He was about to laugh it off when he realized that maybe they were justified in their expectation. Quickly reflecting, he realized he had been fast to anger in the past, especially when he felt he wasn't being believed. But now…?

"Harry?" Hermione asked him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head and gave her a forced smile.

"Sorry," he told her, patting her hand before she removed it and stepped back to the chairs she and Ron had been sitting in. Ron quickly joined in sitting down with his two friends, sensing a heavy conversation coming.

"Is everything alright, mate?" Ron asked hesitantly. He gave Ron a genuine smile, realizing that it was perhaps the most sensitive way Ron knew how to start a conversation like this. Hermione looked like she was just about to say something about his lack of tact when Harry spoke up.

"Not quite, Ron, but thanks for asking." Hermione whipped her head around, a fair amount of surprise evident.

"I realized something, this summer," He began telling his friends, hoping to stave off Hermione's questions before they came at him like bullets from a rapid fire gun. "I realized that for the four years I've known you, almost five now, I've hardly told you anything about myself that we didn't learn together."

It had become clear to him, especially this summer, when his communication with Ron and Hermione had become limited for whatever reason Dumbledore had managed to convince them of, that his friendship with Ron and Hermione was based off of mutual experiences they'd gone through together at Hogwarts. That certainly wasn't a terrible way to start a relationship with friends, but he came to realize that he needed to work on deepening his relationship with his two friends.

Through his correspondence with Neville, and the few times they had managed to get together, he realized that the boy seemed to understand him on a deeper level, that they were more comfortable in their silences together than what Ron or Hermione would be able to put up with. When he tried talking about it to Neville, he provided an insight that he hadn't thought of before.

"_Well," Neville had started hesitantly, "we both lost our parents, right?" Harry had been surprised Neville had brought it up and his friend quickly tried to back out of the answer he'd given._

"_I didn't mean- it's just that-"_

"_It's okay, Neville, I'm not mad," Harry quickly reassured, trying to calm down his friend. "I was just surprised. I'd never thought about it that way." Neville calmed down measurably and after a few breaths, he started again._

"_Well, it does leave an impact," Neville said sagely, if not entirely confidently. "My Gran and I went through some sessions when I was old enough and really understood what had happened to my parents. I had always seen them at St. Mungo's. It had taken me a while to realize that just because they weren't physically gone didn't mean that… well…" Neville took a deep breath and moved on speaking._

"_There's other student's at Hogwarts who've lost their parents as well. Susan Bones, she's lost just about everyone 'cept her aunt. She's a Hufflepuff, but we've talked a few times. Luna Lovegood, over in Ravenclaw, she lost her mum. I've heard it was an accident, spell gone wrong, but she had died right in front of her daughter. People at school call her Loony, but… And then-"_

"_I think I get it," he'd said. "We're not exactly unique."_

"_Well," Neville half joked, "I'm not, but you survived a killing curse." Again, Harry was surprised with Neville's bold joke, but couldn't stop the smile breaking out._

"_Got me there," he conceded. "So, we just… get each other, then? 'Cause we're orphans?"_

"_Because we know what being orphans means," Neville corrected. "I'm sure Ron and Hermione would get it too if they knew what it meant."_

So, Harry explained what it meant for the next few hours as the Order continued their meeting downstairs. Hermione had cried a few times when he told them about home life with the Dursleys, or lack of it. He noticed that Ron held her hand tightly during those moments and that it seemed to help her. He told them about some of his bouts of accidental magic and the kind of trouble it landed him in. And when he finished with his childhood, he found he couldn't stop his cathartic release to his friends. He told them about the nightmares he'd been having all his life, and the new one's he had gotten this year. He told them the whole story about the graveyard, Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth. And when he was finally done, he felt so spent, but so… free.

The room was quiet for a long time, Hermione softly sniffling and Ron giving him a look that made it feel like he was much cooler than he actually was. Perhaps he'd gotten the wrong impression on his duel with Voldemort.

"Dinner!" they all heard Mrs. Weasley yell before a loud shriek came from the hallway, followed closely by Mrs. Weasley's own shouts.

"What's all that about?" Harry asked, glad for the diversion.

"Portrait," Hermione and Ron said simultaneously, before both realizing they were still holding hands. In a flurry of red faces, they each quickly apologized and put their hands in their laps before trying to ignore each other.

"Dinner then?" Harry asked, not being able to keep a small smirk off his face and out of his voice.

"Prat," Hermione mumbled as they all got up to head down stairs. However, before Harry left the room, Ron held him back for a moment.

"We'll be right down, Hermione," Ron shouted to their female friend over the shrieking portrait and Mrs. Weasley. Hermione looked curious, but nodded back as she continued down the stairs. Once they were back in the room, Ron shut the door to muffle the noise and turned to face Harry. There was a moment of awkwardness between them before Ron began.

"Blimey, mate," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I knew, but I guess I really didn't. Those muggles... you're not going back to them, right?"

"Not if I can help it, no," Harry said seriously. Ron nodded approvingly.

"And those dreams… you've woken me up before with them, but I'd never have guessed… Since you were young?" Harry nodded. "Bloody hell…" Ron muttered as he shook his head.

"I suppose last year I was a right git to you," Ron finally said.

"You suppose?" Harry repeated, half smiling in teasing. He'd forgiven Ron last year and hadn't held any reservations with it.

"Come off it now," Ron smiled back. "This is all new to me, dealing with emotions."

"You seemed to be doing pretty good with Hermione back there," Harry smiled as he nodded back towards where the two had held hands a few minutes ago.

"Sod off," Ron replied, shoving him half-heartedly as his face turned as red as his hair. Before either could say anything more, Mrs. Weasley called from outside the door, much softer than she had from the landing below.

"Ron? Harry? Dinner's waiting."

"Coming," they both yelled through the door. But before he could leave, Ron held him back one more time.

"Look, I really just wanted to say that I realize, now more than ever, that I was way out of line last year, and that if you're still good with me being your friend and all-"

"Ron," he put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "We went through this last year. Of course you're still my friend." Ron gave him a large smile and nodded. "Dinner?" he needlessly asked.

"Dinner," Ron agreed eagerly, the two of them rushing down stairs to eat.

The meal was lively as any he had with the Weasley family, especially since there was even more people at the table now. Remus and Sirius introduced them, Harry recognizing some from the night he'd come back for Mr. Greengrass. The food was as delicious as it always was when Mrs. Weasley cooked for him, but this summer, Harry could at least say it wasn't the first good meal he'd had since coming back from Hogwarts. Once everyone had finished up their desert, Mrs. Weasley let out a large yawn, starting something of a chain reaction down the table.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," the woman said as she got up and began collecting dishes. Tonks, an Auror who Sirius had introduced during the meal as Nymphadora before she warned against ever using that name, got up to help, but had taken no more than two steps with her own plate before she tripped and fell, shattering the dish. As Mrs. Weasley helped the woman, Sirius used the distraction to lean over and whisper into Harry's ear.

"Drawing room, midnight."

The whispered message had been so fast that Harry almost turned towards his godfather to have him repeat it, but Sirius was already engaging in another conversation with a man who looked more like a pile of rags than a human being.

After the table was cleared and everyone had gone back to their rooms to retire for the evening, Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed up for a little while longer discussing some of the things that had happened over the summer they hadn't mentioned in their letters back and forth. Eventually, Hermione returned to her shared room with Ginny and Ron and Harry tucked themselves in for the night.

It hadn't even been ten minutes since their heads hit the pillow that Ron's snoring began, but for once, Harry was glad for the distracting noise as he waited for midnight to roll around. Somewhere in the house, a clock rung out the time and he silently crawled out of his musty smelling bed, treading cautiously across the old floorboards to the hallway. Unlike the house on Privet Drive, he had no idea where the noisy floorboards were here and tip-toed his way towards the sitars before realizing he had no idea where the drawing room was. What was a drawing room even for, anyway?

"Harry?" Sirius hoarsely whispered out from the opposite end of the hallway, startling him a bit. "Harry, is that you?"

Harry nodded in the dim light, hoping his godfather could see the action, and began to make his way towards the backlit man.

"I realized after dinner was over that you probably wouldn't know where the drawing room was," Sirius whispered, leading him into a room and closing the door. "I waited near your room hoping to catch you before you spent the evening looking for me. I suppose I was lucky you didn't wear your cloak. Come, sit, sit," Sirius encouraged patting a chair beside him, causing dust to flit into the moonlit air.

The rest of the room wasn't too clean either. The windows the moonlight came in through were caked with dirt and grime, and the curtains that were drawn apart looked like they'd been fed to an army of moths and twitched every so often like they were alive. The carpet, like the chair Harry sat down in, exhaled a puff of dust each time it was touched.

"This place has certainly gone downhill since I lived here," Sirius muttered, following Harry's gaze around the room.

"You lived here?"

"When I was young and before I ran away, yes," Sirius pulled his eyes away from observing the room to observing his godson. "This is the ancestral home of the Black family. One of them, at least, the others are probably in no better shape. Right now, I'm letting the Order use it as their headquarters, though my motivations for doing so are not entirely selfless."

"What do you mean?" Harry watched as his godfather got a tired look that Harry didn't like at all. It reminded him of the expression the man had worn before he and Hermione had broken him out of his holding cell at Hogwarts.

"Well, the Ministry is still after me, they continue to think I was the one who killed all those muggles. And Peter knows my Animagus form, so by extension, Voldemort knows it as well." Sirius paused and looked at him, smiling after a moment. "You don't know how refreshing it is to say his name and not have someone shiver like a leaf." Harry could appreciate the sentiment.

"Anyway, with people knowing what to look for, I had traded one jail cell for another. I decided that if I couldn't go where the action was happening, I'd do my best to bring it to me. Next thing you know, my old house becomes HQ for the Order."

"What _is_ the Order?" Harry was tired of hearing the term and not fully understanding it.

"There's the question I was waiting for," Sirius said with a smirk. "I knew you had to be somewhat curious. It's a good thing you didn't ask in front of Molly."

"Why? What's Mrs. Weasley got to do with anything?"

"A question I often ask myself," Sirius muttered. "To answer your first question, the Order, fully, the Order of the Phoenix, is a… vigilante group dedicated to fighting Voldemort any way it can. It was first founded back during Voldemort's first rise to power, with me, your parents and loads of other people who fought and resisted Voldemort and his followers. Molly and Arthur weren't members back then, but when Dumbledore started us back up earlier this year, they joined. After what happened to their daughter, I think they had a more personal reason to want to fight back.

"Molly, though, has been very adamant about not involving 'children'. She's taken Dumbledore's warning and ran with it to an extreme I've been very vocal about disagreeing with."

"Dumbledore's warning?"

"He…" Sirius seemed to struggle with himself long and hard before he finally muttered to himself, "bugger it all." He pulled his wand out and cast at the door before he turned to face Harry fully. "Harry, Dumbledore is a great wizard, don't get me wrong, but he's just as much a human as you or I. He makes mistakes. And the way he's been dealing with you and Voldemort is one of the bigger one's he's made recently.

"When I found out you'd refused to go with Remus back to your relatives, I had to excuse myself so I could shout in joy. You're a smart and capable wizard, Harry, whether you're of age or not, and if you've decided for yourself that your aunt and uncle aren't good for you, then us adults should stand by that decision. I certainly will. I know plenty of people have had doubts about you staying with them before as well.

"I hope you realize I didn't want to trap you here, Merlin knows I wouldn't wish that on anyone. If we could be sure that you'd be safe at Diagon Alley, I'd help smuggle you back there myself tonight. But as it is..."

Harry nodded to show he understood what his godfather was trying to say, but had been honest earlier about wanting to spend the rest of his summer with Sirius. He wasnt even sure when Mr. Greengrass would return to work.

"Dumbledore has it in his head he knows what's best for you, but don't let him bully you into a corner," Sirius finished.

Harry's heart was swelling with the support he was getting from his godfather. This, right here, was what he'd always wanted growing up; an adult who was proud of him and supported him.

"That all means a lot to me, Sirius," Harry managed to say. "It means a lot to hear you say that." Sirius' eyes shimmered much like he suspected his own were and got up and pulled Harry to him. After their moment, Sirius sat them back down, clouding the air momentarily with dust.

"Where was I?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat and dabbing at his eyes with a cloth he pulled from a pocket. "Ah, yes, Dumbledore's warning. I'm not sure what the full reason is behind it, but Dumbledore has been very adamant that we tell you, you specifically, only what you need to know. Molly has taken it to mean you and everyone you associate with regularly and doesn't let anyone she still has authority over know anything."

"But why-"

"I already said I didn't know the full reason," Sirius told Harry before he could get started. "What I do know is that Dumbledore is afraid anything more you know about Voldemort will make you a bigger target to the Ministry and Voldemort's own forces than you already are. Molly's motivations I can only guess at, but she's most likely just trying to keep you kids out of danger in her own, overbearing way.

"I, however, think you'll only be hurt by what you don't know. You are already the biggest target for both the Ministry and Voldemort and I can't imagine anything they might try that's more drastic than a Dementor attack.

"The Ministry is already scrambling trying to cover up the kissed muggle boys and whoever issued the attack will have to think twice before trying that again. And Voldemort was only able to try anything because he could do it without showing his hand. His forces are still trying to gather strength and won't try anything nearly as bold."

Harry sat and absorbed it all for a few moments.

"Why does Dumbledore want me back with the Dursleys so bad? Are there really blood wards there?"

"Blood wards?!" Sirius asked. Harry was sure that if his godfather had been drinking something, it would now be on the floor or on himself. "There aren't any blood wards at Privet Drive, I can tell you that much. Who told you there were?"

"Well," Harry began hesitantly, not wanting to get the twins in trouble. "I heard something from someone who heard something..."

"The twins then," Sirius said smirking lightly before frowning in thought. "Dumbledore has mentioned it only a few times, but has said that he put blood _charms_ around your house to prevent you from being harmed by 'people who would wish you ill will'. Unfortunately, it seems Dumbledore didnt take into account that the people the blood charm protected might 'wish ill will' upon each other. I can see how the twins would get wording wrong on that, though."

"Is there a difference?" Harry asked, confused. "Between blood wards and blood charms, that is."

"Simply? No. If you'd taken arithmancy, I'd try explaining it a bit more, but as it is, it'd go over your head." Harry frowned but Sirius didn't relent. Not for the first time, he regretted his electives choice. "Perhaps when we have a bit more time, we can go over some basics," Sirius finally relented. Harry gave a grin in response.

"Now, as for why Dumbledore wanted you back there, I can't say exactly. I'm no expert on blood magic, but I've gathered that the blood charm Dumbledore used needed to be either recharged or stabilized by you. When you didn't show up this summer, the charm became unstable or weak, and the night Snape came to get you, it was in danger of failing if you didn't spend some time near it. I'm not sure what condition it's in now, but my bet is that your relatives aren't going to be in Little Whinging much longer if Dumbledore has anything to say about it."

"Why did Snape come to get me?" Harry asked, practically snarling his potions Professor's name. Sirius' face darkened at the mention of the man as well and took a moment to breathe calm breaths before answering Harry.

"Dumbledore was running out of people he could send," Sirius explained. "Moony had been sent on a mission just a few days ago, but he told me your Patronus came to him. He was the one who got everyone together to look for you." Harry's heart clenched in emotion for his former professor, but Sirius continued, not picking up on it.

"Mad-eye was on another mission somewhere on the continent, and I couldn't very well come and get you. Everyone else didn't know you well enough to come and take you without raising more suspicion than necessary."

"What about the Weasleys?"

"Mr. Weasley flat out refused to do it," Sirius said with a smile, apparently enjoying a good memory. "Said he wouldn't bring you back to those people after hearing the state you'd been found in by the twins back in your second year. Mrs. Weasley had been about to do it, but after she had a row with her husband, she wouldn't even consider it anymore."

Harry again felt his heart move with emotion for his proxy family. He was a little concerned about what may have happened between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but was glad she'd been convinced not to try and retrieve Harry.

There was a break in conversation as he basked in the knowledge that there were people, quite a few of them it seemed, who cared for him deeply.

"We should probably both get to bed," Sirius said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "Don't want to tip anyone off about our late-night meet up." Harry nodded in agreement and they both walked to exit the room.

"Harry?" Sirius said after him as he made his way towards the room he and Ron shared. "If you've got any more questions later, save them until you and I can talk like this again. Molly would have both our heads if she thought you were being any more 'nosey' than necessary and I was being any looser lipped than she thinks I already am."

Harry grinned and nodded at his godfather before going to bed. It took him what felt like an hour to fall asleep; so many thoughts were swimming through his head.

**AN:** I realize that this chapter might be ununpopular with some of you who want a vengeful Harry who takes crap from no one, but I wanted to write in Harry's changes a bit more organiclly. He's a bit of a pushover in cannon. A complaining pushover. He'll eventually be the guy who takes crap from no one, but he's going to have to trudge through the stuff a bit before he gets there. He's also going to do it with as many friends at his side as he can get. I'll try not to gloss over people's flaws, because they've got a lot of them, but don't expect Harry to be ending friendship's left and right just because his friends are not perfect. Anyway, I'll pack up my soapbox now. I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	8. The Head Of The DMLE

**CHAPTER 8**

**~THE HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT~**

The next few days leading up to Harry's trial were agonizing for two reasons.

The first was that he had an upcoming trial to fret over. Everyone kept making sure to remind him he had nothing to worry about and that he was going to be fine. He lost count of how many times Hermione tried to explain the law that allowed underage witches and wizards to use magic when in life-threatening situations. In fact, the only person he didn't hear some kind of advice from was Dumbledore himself. Through Sirius, he learned the headmaster reserved his visits to the organization he lead to the late evening, while Harry was asleep.

The second reason was that Mrs. Weasley had everyone cleaning the house as if it were the true purpose of the Order. That in itself wasn't the terrible part though. He'd cleaned houses before, he'd done exactly that for years with the Dursleys, in fact. What really drove him spare was that back when he'd been working at Mr. Greengrass' apothecary, he could accomplish the tasks set out for him with a simple flick of his wand.

He knew he would be able to cast undetected at Grimmauld Place, as there were plenty of adult witches and wizards to mask his magic, and also the fact the whole building was under what Sirius had told Harry was a Fidelius Charm. He remembered what Flitwick had said at the Three Broomsticks back in his third year about the charm and was sufficiently assured that short of someone ratting him out to the Ministry themselves, he could cast whatever he wanted in the house without the Ministry knowing.

Of course, having Mrs. Weasley know would probably be a worse fate altogether with how she was yelling at Fred and George for every magical shortcut they attempted to take. Regardless, he sneaked in what magic he could when no one was close enough to hear him mutter with his wand up his sleeve.

The first time he'd tried to cast a simple cleaning spell without actually holding his wand in his hand, he had been astonished it had actually worked. Everything he had learned at Hogwarts had emphasised correct and clear pronunciation and wand movement, but this summer he had learned that with some of his most familiar spells, he was getting away with dropping one or even both elements completely.

He caught Hermione watching closely a couple of times after he had finished his assigned cleaning faster than what was normal under mundane means, as if she were expecting him to whip out his wand, but she would always miss it when he actually did perform some magical feat. It brought him some measure of amusement to tease her in this way, and he figured he was due some amusement. His nightmares still came, and though they weren't as frequent, they were much more intense and vivid when they did occur.

Lately, it seemed his subconscious favoured taking him down a long, unfamiliar corridor. The location wasn't what frightened Harry, however, it was the fact that he had the distinct impression that he was experiencing everything form a perspective that wasn't necessarily human. From the swaying motion of his body and low clearance from the ground, he was pretty sure that he was some kind of snake, but every time he had the dream, he had no desire of his own and just seemed to be following some predestined path.

Other than his stealthy use of magic and the reactions it got from Hermione, nothing at Grimmauld brought him much joy. His godfather could hardly spare any time with him, being redirected by Mrs. Weasley whenever he tried to spend any measure of time with Harry during the day, and their night meetings together were limited due to Order meetings that took place late in the evening and the fact that they both needed their sleep with as much cleaning as they were doing.

And even after clearing the air with his friends, there was still a small measure of unease between them leading up to his trial. He couldn't very well blame them either after thinking about it a while. How would he act if one of them possibly wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts with him for the rest of his life?

In fact, lately, the person he had been talking with the most during the day was Ginny. Apparently the few letters they'd managed to send back and forth really did help her be able to talk to him like a normal person.

Somewhat.

While Ron and Hermione tended to stick together during their cleaning chores, Ginny tended to gravitate towards Harry, and they would exchange small talk whenever there was an especially dull task to perform. She was curious like Hermione was about his sudden proficiency with cleaning, but seemed to dismiss it more easily than his muggle-born friend.

When he and Ginny did talk for more than a few seconds, their conversations tended to focus on inconsequential things, nothing truly profound or earth shattering; mostly they told each other about their interests and goals.

He learned that Ginny wanted to eventually join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a chaser and possibly make a career out of it. Going by the few times Harry had seen her flying, even with the lower quality brooms the Weasleys owned, he knew she'd have it easy if that's what she really set her mind to.

In turn, he told Ginny about what he planned on doing once graduating Hogwarts, which basically amounted to figuring out what he wanted to do in the first place. She assured him that he could easily go professional in Quidditch too, maybe even giving Viktor Krum a run for his money. Privately though, he wasn't sure he'd want to try and go make a bigger name for himself than what he already had.

It was during dinner when he found himself again, thinking about his future and what he wanted from it, that he was interrupted from his musings by Mrs. Weasley.

"I've ironed you best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders," she said as everyone slowly stopped eating to look over at him.

The meal had actually been going well for once, too. Mundungus, a wizard who smelled worse than the nastiest back alley Harry had been down had just finished telling a story that had made everyone who could stomach sitting next to him laugh. Tonks, the clumsy Auror who was part of the Order was entertaining Hermione and Ginny with her unique Metamorphmagus ability. Even Moody hadn't been staring at him with his magical eye the _whole_ time. Now, though, everyone was staring at him, including Moody's electric blue eye.

He quite honestly didn't know what outcome to expect with the trial. Everyone in the Order that he had regular contact with expressed their strong beliefs that he'd be absolved of any crime the Ministry was trying to pin on him because of the self-defence clause in the under-age laws. But then, this was the same Ministry they were saying had set Dementors on Little Whinging in an attempt to have him kissed. An institution willing to have him essentially killed didn't seem like they would let him walk away scot-free because of a loophole in a law. He knew Mr. Weasley and other members of the Order worked for the Ministry, so the whole lot couldn't be bad, but right now, his opinion of the Wizarding government was very low.

He was told the plan for tomorrow while everyone listened in; as always, his private life was on full public display. Not for the first time, he wondered if this was what Dumbledore had been trying to save him from by placing him with his relatives. Sure, there were plenty of other issues that had come from living with the Dursleys, but at least none of his relatives had been over-interested in his life. But thinking about what Dumbledore had been trying to do by placing him with his aunt and uncle gave Harry a biting headache, so he quickly stopped that train of thought.

Misinterpreting his silence and lack of response as tiredness, Mrs. Weasley sent everyone off to bed. But he was anything but tired, and by the time he eventually did fall asleep, he seemed to wake up only a moment later.

Mr. Weasley was giving him the kindest smile he could manage after waking up a fifteen year old boy at five-thirty in the morning during the summer for a punitive hearing that may-or-may-not determine if he'd end up expelled and with a snapped wand.

It had been decided that he would accompany Ron's father to work early today and wait with him in his office for the scheduled time of his hearing. The trial wasn't supposed to start until a little before the afternoon, but spending time with Mr. Weasley at the busy Ministry seemed better than brooding in the already moody atmosphere of Grimmauld Place. After a quick breakfast and one final encouraging hug from Sirius, he left with Mr. Weasley.

He hadn't been sure what to expect of the Ministry. There were only a few places he'd been where magic had been allowed to be freely and extravagantly showcased. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts all had a medieval feel to them, with their cobbled streets, old stone walls, and full suits of armour.

The Ministry by comparison almost felt modern.

The underground offices were still outdated by muggle standards, but for what he knew of wizarding society, the place was sure to be considered ahead of its time. When Mr. Weasley caught him giving an impressed look around the large atrium they had arrived in, he puffed his chest a bit in pride, and Harry found he couldn't fault the man. The floors had a wonderful shine, any metal surfaces were highly polished, and the windows of offices that over looked a large, ornate fountain were crystal clear.

Said fountain was a little posh for his tastes, and he was sure that Hermione would take issue with the house-elf that was portrayed, but he was still drawn towards the impressive water feature. He quickly noticed a multitude of Knuts and a handful of Sickles shimmering in the water before eyeing a sign that stated all money was donated to St. Mungo's Hospital.

Noticing Mr. Weasley was anxiously waiting on him, he quickly returned to his side before they both got on a lift.

While Harry wouldn't call the ride in the Ministry lift as harrowing as the one he had whenever he visited his vault in Gringotts, he knew his already messy hair was even messier as he stepped out with Mr. Weasley.

Someone who'd come with Remus the night Harry was attacked by Dementors stepped up to Mr. Weasley when they walked through the Auror department. They shared a few tense words, but during the exchange, he saw the Auror hand Mr. Weasley folder discretely. After their brief and somewhat clandestine exchange, Harry was led to a room that was beside a cleaning closet and briefly reminded him of his time spent under the stairs at number 4 Privet Drive.

Following Mr. Weasley into the tiny room, Harry asked about the confrontation he had just bore witness to.

"Oh," Mr. Weasley waved his hand dismissively, "just some Order business."

Harry struggled to hold back a snort, as if someone saying something had to do with the Order was supposed to make him lose interest instead of gain it. However, it seemed Mr. Weasley was a bit more loose-lipped than his wife. Or, just maybe, Mr. Weasley was of the same mind as his godfather and thought Harry should know a bit more than what others thought 'absolutely necessary.'

"With the Ministry still going after Sirius, some of the Aurors in the Order are having me put together a report on his possible movements involving bewitched muggle transport, just to help throw suspicion off everyone. That, and Kingsley found an amusing article for Sirius as well. Ever heard of the Quibbler?"

"No, what is it?" Harry asked as Mr. Weasley smiled and picked up the file he'd been handed. A brief shuffle of documents later and he was given a peculiar looking magazine with a bold-faced topic that immediately caught Harry's interest. However, before he could read how the magazine thought his godfather may be innocent, a man barged into the office.

"Arthur!" the dishevelled man said as he ran into the room, nearly toppling Harry. Not giving either of them a chance to react, the man continued his apparently very urgent message. "The hearing, it's been changed! The old courtrooms! You've got minutes to get there!"

Mr Weasley's face drained of colour as he took a quick glance at the clock on the wall.

"But it's not even-"

"They moved it forward by _three hours!_" the man quickly returned, gesturing out the door with his hand urgently. "You need to hurry!"

"But that means-" Mr. Weasley jerked his head back to the clock before quickly jumping up from his chair and grabbing Harry's hand as they both began to ran towards the lifts.

"Mr. Weasley, wha-"

"Not now, Harry."

The frenzied Mr. Weasley wasted no time in pulling Harry into the lift once it arrived and pushed aside the operator before he began to repeatedly jam his finger on one of the last buttons on the lift as if it would make it go faster. Then again, Harry wasn't completely sure if that _wasn't_ true, he'd not ridden an enchanted lift enough times before to know their intricacies.

"They changed the time and location of your trial," Mr. Weasley began explaining as the lift began moving, jerking left and right before beginning to plummet downwards, all the while Mr. Weasley kept up his incessant pressing of the lift button. The lift operator that had been pushed aside looked at Mr. Weasley incredulously and with a twinge of concern, but didn't try to move or do anything about the frenzied man. "I've no doubt it's to try you _in absentia_. I need to get word to Dumbledore..." the man muttered to himself as the lift came to a jarring halt.

"Department of Mysteries," a cool and calm female voice announced as the lift's grate slid open, completely at odds with Harry's current demeanour. Mr. Weasley ran out of the lift with Harry hot on his heels, following the flustered man down a corridor that gave him a creeping sense of déjà vu.

"This way, Harry," Mr. Weasley called out as Harry shook himself out of a stupor. Somehow he had ended up in front of a door at the end of the hallway when the last thing he had remembered was being right behind Mr. Weasley. Shaking himself once more, he ran to Mr. Weasley's side as he pulled out a pocket watch and nodded to himself.

"Well, this is it," the man tucked his watch back into his pocket. Harry off-handedly tried to remind himself to ask him where he'd gotten it; he was still having problems finding his own. He took a nervous swallow and faced the new door.

"I'm not allowed in," Mr. Weasley said after a tense moment. "But I'll be waiting for you right here once it's all over," the man tried reassuringly. "Dumbledore should be along shortly, so do your best until he can show up."

Harry gave the man a shaky nod as negative thoughts flooded his mind. Why would Dumbledore show up now? He'd been avoiding Harry all summer as if he were Voldemort himself, so why show up to a trial in front of people who publicly called him senile and mad?

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked worriedly.

"Right," Harry said much more confidently than he felt. "Wish me luck." He didn't stick around to hear if he was wished anything, however, and walked forwards and through the door, not trusting himself to procrastinate a moment longer.

The court chamber he walked into was immediately recognizable to him even though it was his first time actually physically being here. Dumbledore had been here after Voldemort's first rise to power had ended, when the Ministry had been trying Karkaroff as a Death Eater. Was it a purposeful choice that his trail was being held here now? Surely there were other places...?

Murmurs began to echo around the room as people dressed in regale looking dark-plum robes with a silver 'W' on the left breast began to notice him as he walked towards the centre of the circular chamber.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Minister Fudge began, a tone of unpleasantness in his voice, "you're late."

He noticed that some members of the gathered witches and wizards thinned their mouths and swiveled their heads sideways with glares directed towards the Minister, but most people were instead shooting him impetuous glances, as if he were the one who'd summoned them here to try him. Well, technically-

"Please, take a seat," the Minister continued, gesturing roughly to the solitary high-backed wooden chair in the centre of the chamber. At least there weren't heavy shackles for his arms as there had been for Karkaroff, he thought morbidly as he took a seat in the highly uncomfortable chair. As he sat, he noticed the chair was incredibly squeaky and noisy, unnaturally so, and he had to keep from fidgeting in order for there to be silence from his seat. He also felt the strangest sensation spike through his spine for the briefest moment, something similar to chills, but faster and over in less than a second.

Shaking his head in an effort to clear it and instantly regretting it as his chair squeaked incessantly again, Harry looked up at the gathered witches and wizards who gazed down at him imperiously. He felt his eyes momentarily drawn to one witch in particular, to the Ministers right, who had a lurid, small pink bow in her hair that was horribly out of place in the otherwise sombre sea of dark colours, and whose face had a vindictive grin that almost made him physically shiver before he reminded himself of his horribly noisy chair.

"Let us begin, shall we?" Fudge asked everyone as he called attention to himself to initiate the hearing. However, just as he was taking a breath to start, the doors behind Harry burst open, slightly masking the loud squeak of his noisy chair as he leaned to peer behind the blasted seat.

Everyone starred as Albus Dumbledore strode into the courtroom confidently and without pause.

"Dumbledore?" Fudge asked in a flighty voice. "W-what are you-" the Minister stopped himself and corrected to, "you got the message, then? About the new time? And… new location, did you?"

"Unfortunately, no, Minister," Dumbledore said in a jovial voice that was completely out of place with his hard stare at the Minister. "However, by happy accident, I arrived to the Ministry three hours early today and just so happened to hear of Mr. Potter's new trial location."

"How fortunate, indeed," Fudge replied stiltedly. "Yes, well, to the charges then. Let us not delay any further," the man tried beginning again, though Harry got the distinct impression that the headmaster had taken most the wind out of the man's sails. As everyone settled themselves, he took one final glance at Dumbledore who had summoned one of his signature chintz chairs beside Harry, but was studiously ignoring his inquiring eyes.

Just as well, he thought hotly, already feeling the beginnings of a migraine. A far off part of him even seemed to suggest that it wasn't as if Dumbledore had helped him any before now.

"We are here today, the 12th of August 1995, to try Mr. Harry James Potter of number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, of knowingly and deliberately casting magic in the presence of a muggle while outside of school and while under the age of majority on the second of August, 1995," Fudge said with a practised droning voice, reading over a piece of parchment in front of him.

"Are you Harry James Potter?" Fudge said, asking his first question over the tops of his reading glasses. Harry thought that question was answered rather obviously, but then again, he had impersonated someone before with polyjuice potion, so perhaps it wasn't too far off the mark to ask and make sure.

"Yes," Harry said confidently.

"Were you at Little Whinging on the evening of the 2nd of August?" Fudge asked next, almost immediately after Harry had given his answer.

"Yes," Harry began, "but-"

"Did you use magic, of your own volition, in full view of muggles, aware of the fact that doing so was in violation of not only The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-age Sorcery, but also The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?" Fudge asked with one large breath, not giving Harry any chance of defending his previous answer.

"Yes, but-"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Fudge interrupted, a sly smile on his face as he turned to look at the gathered witches and wizards, "as you can see, this young man has no regard for our society and has continually tried to expose us-"

"THERE WERE DEMENTORS!" Harry angrily shouted at the man, his heavily emotionally charged voice cutting over the Minister and causing a hushed silence to fall over the gathered witches and wizards. For a split moment, he could even feel the piercing gaze of Dumbledore finally slip towards him, but it immediately went back to the Minister before Harry could dwell on it. In the following silence, Harry realized this had been the first time this summer he'd felt he'd lost control of his emotions.

Many of the gathered witches and wizards looked at him with frowns for his most assuredly unsightly outburst and for interrupting such an important person as the Minister. But he noticed that some gave him curiously interested stares instead. The witch with the pink bow, however, looked furious.

"Dementors?" a witch to the left of Fudge asked. She had a monocle that looked like it might be in danger of falling out if she became any further surprised. "In Little Whinging?" Fudge began to look a bit panicked before an idea suddenly seemed to come to him and spoke up again in his grandiose manner.

"Ah, yes, yes, quite clever," the man said with a forced chuckle, drawing more sideways glares, a particularly strong one from the witch to his left who'd just spoken. "But muggles can't _see_ Dementors, can they?" Fudge said with an air of superiority, as if he had thwarted a great conspiracy.

Harry was struck by that previously unknown fact. Why'd no one tell him that before? He suddenly thought of Dudley, and how he hadn't even been able to see what had been attacking him or his gang. For a brief moment, perhaps the briefest moment that was conceivably possible, he felt terrible for his cousin. But then the moment was over as Fudge began speaking again.

"Since you've no one to collaborate the claim-"

"But Minister, the chair," the woman to his left said pointedly and quickly, clearly interested in perusing this new information. Harry saw out the corner of his eye that Dumbledore had begun to take a breath and rise a bit like he was going to stand and say something, but held back his comment when the witch had spoken and instead looked curiously over at Harry's chair.

He still firmly refused to meet Harry's eye, however.

Everyone gathered in the chamber slowly began murmuring with each other and looking curiously at Harry. Even Fudge seemed to grumble to himself, and the pink bow lady seemed to be growing more and more annoyed. Eventually, Fudge turned his attention back towards Harry.

"Silence!" Fudge yelled to the room before glaring down at him. "Were there Dementors the evening you performed magic?"

"Yes," Harry replied earnestly and without hesitation. The whole room sat in silence, watching Harry so intently that he _almost_ fidgeted in his seat before remembering that it was entirely too squeaky to do so, and as soon as that thought passed through his head, the peculiar sensation shot through his spine again and he found it extraordinarily easy to remain still. Eventually, people began to murmur again, to themselves and to their neighbours, and even Fudge began to look confused.

"It must be broken," the Minister said to himself, though from his position, the words were clearly heard by all.

"They checked the enchantments before the hearing began," another wizard chimed in loudly. "It's working perfectly."

"Mr. Potter," the woman with the monocle began, "Please answer the next question... dishonestly."

Harry stared up at the gathered room incredulously.

"You _want_ me to lie?"

"For the next question only," the woman clarified while nodding. Harry gave a confused nod in agreement, not sure where this was all going. As the woman began to take a breath to ask her question, however, the woman who'd been fuming for most the trial, the one with the pink bow, suddenly spoke up with her own question.

"Did you witness the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" she asked in the most overly girlish and prim voice he'd ever heard.

For a moment, there was a stunned silence around the room before there were some dark guffaws. Even the Minister looked slightly amused. There were, however, a few faces that suddenly turned gravely stony. The woman with the monocle and who he was beginning to see as his only friend in this hearing gave an eye roll, but did nothing else.

"No," Harry lied petulantly, glaring at the witch with the pink bow. Suddenly, the strange feeling returned with a vengeance and shot through his spine, causing him to become overcome with the irresistible urge to twitch, quite violently in fact, making his chair practically screech at the crowd of gathered witches and wizards.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Witches and wizards who'd been laughing before had gone quiet and many faces had drained of colour. The few grave faces from before now glared at Harry even more stonily. Fudge was palest of them all and was sending fleeting glances over towards Dumbledore who had something of a smug smile.

"He's back?" the witch who'd he'd been growing to like asked, a fear in her tone that nearly made Harry shiver himself.

"Yes," Harry replied, and the room continued on in deathly silence.

"Check it," Fudge demanded, his voice a hoarse whisper before he shook himself a bit. "Check it!" he yelled out to a man who'd been standing off to the side, causing them to jump and run towards the chair Harry was seated on. The man pulled out his wand and began to cast at the chair, avoiding Harry's questioning gaze the entire time.

"Well?" Fudge asked expectantly once the man had finished.

"It's working, sir," the man said in a small, frightened voice. "Every enchantment is as full strength."

"No!" Fudge yelled back. "You're wrong! He's lying! It must be broken!"

"It is an S class magical artefact!" the wizard who had spoken up earlier in defence of the chair yelled back at the Minister. "It cannot have broken in the last hour after it has been functioning flawlessly for centuries!"

"Are we not here for a trial of Mr. Potter's completely justified use of defensive magic?" Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm not sure what all this fuss is with the chair, as lovely as it is, I'm sure, but clearly, it's not as pressing as a full inquiry into Mr. Potter's use of a Patronus to fend off Dementors that were attacking him and his muggle cousin."

"A Patronus? At his age?"

"Did he say the muggle was a cousin?"

"Hear, hear!"

All around the room, conversations began to break out at Dumbledore's interjection. Only after pounding his hand on his desk repeatedly for order did the Minister begin to get the room to settle back down.

"Order! I will have order!" the Minister yelled out angrily. "The point remains! Mr. Potter has no witness! As the chair has been proven unreliable-"

"Proven?!" A new witch shouted, earning a few indignant agreements around the room.

"SILENCE!" Fudge roared, his face approaching a shade Harry had only seen on his uncle before. The Minister was given very strong sidelong glances now from the people gathered around him, most the witches and wizards seeming to be wary of the fuming man.

"Minister, if witnesses are required-" Dumbledore began after a few tense moments. Fudge's eyes crazily bored down towards Dumbledore as if his words were the most foul of language.

"NO!" Again, the people closest to the man gave him dubious glances with the exception of the witch with the pink bow who seemed to still be trying to set Harry aflame with her stare alone. "The boy's guilt is already readily apparent and further procrastination from a man who would monger fear for his own benefit has no place in this hearing!"

"A vote," Fudge finally said, his smouldering anger barely concealed. "All those who believe Harry Potter to be proven guilty of illegally performing magic outside of school and in the presence of muggles," the man said as he raised his hand much like Hermione did when she knew the answer to a particularly difficult question. The woman with the pink bow wasted no time putting her hand up with the Minister's. There were a few other hands that rose with theirs, notably the few who'd glared at him since his declaration of witnessing Voldemort's return, but Harry had to fight down the budding hope in his gut as the majority of the people gathered kept their hands down.

"All those who are in favour of dropping all charges against Mr. Potter," the woman who Harry viewed as his personal hero said after realizing Fudge would wait all day for everyone to eventually raise their hands with him. An overwhelming portion of the gathered witches and wizards raised their hands with the woman. Fudge looked ready to strangle someone as his hand twitched angrily. After he seemed to have smothered some kind of inner demon, he began to speak again.

"Harry Potter, you are cleared of all charges. This emergency disciplinary hearing is dismissed."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Fudge cleared out of the room so quickly and with such flourish that Harry felt Snape would be jealous of the man.

Snape! He'd have been a perfect witness, though Harry wasn't sure he'd want the coward speaking in his defence in front of the Minister. Or anywhere near him any time soon, for that matter. Would Dumbledore have brought him anyway? He was supposed to be a spy, and having him with Harry when Voldemort was trying to cause him harm would look suspicious. Harry began to look over at Dumbledore to ask the headmaster who he had prepared as a witness, but all he saw was Dumbledore's retreating form exiting out the doors.

Harry made to stand back up, but a voice stopped him short of leaving the rickety chair.

"A moment, Mr. Potter," the woman with the monocle said imploringly. Most of the room had cleared out, and only a few other witches and wizards were left behind talking amongst each other, but the few who remained looked over at the woman curiously.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to answer a few more questions," the woman began, her voice and stony expression making Harry feel like there was really little choice to be had in the matter.

"I'm required by law to inform you that you have no obligation to stay and answer them, but they will help greatly in clarifying some points raised by Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Um..." Harry wasn't sure what to do, but felt he owed the woman something after her help during the hearing. "... I guess, Mrs..."

"Madam Bones," the woman provided, causing Harry's memory to jog back to the conversation he had with Neville. This was Susan's aunt? He was having a hard time imagining the Hufflepuff he saw in the hallways at Hogwarts having such an imposing woman raising her.

"Dumbledore had said you cast a Patronus," the woman began, taking Harry's silence as his acceptance to be questioned. "Are you truly able to cast one?"

"Yes," he replied, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable with the looks he received as the remaining witches and wizards gazed at him in awe, some even nodding their head approvingly.

"And the muggle," Madam Bones continued after a moment of gathering herself again, "he was your cousin?"

"Yes," he answered again. "Though, I didn't know who it was at the time I cast the Patronus. I just couldn't stand by and watch something like that happen. It was bad enough when I saw it happening to Sirius-" he suddenly stopped as everyone's stares went from fascination to confusion to shock.

"Sirius?" Madam Bones began before her eyes narrowed threateningly. "Sirius Black? You're in contact with him?"

Harry suddenly felt his stomach fill with ice and his face drain of blood. He felt his vision narrow and his head become light and his hearing go fuzzy. He'd trapped himself and now his godfather was in danger because he'd said too much.

"… Yes," he finally admitted, eliciting gasps of astonishment from the remaining witches and wizards. "But he's innocent!" Harry pleaded, "Peter Pettigrew was the one who killed all those muggles!"

And again, the courtroom was deathly silent as everyone waited and listened for the chair to creak. But the chair had sent it's strange pulse up Harry's spine and the silence carried on. Madam Bones looked conflicted on what to do next. She looked down to the man who had checked Harry's chair during the hearing and after a moment, the man cast at the chair again.

"Still working," the man said to the silent room. Madam Bone's face did the impossible and became even stonier.

"You're telling the truth," the woman said, more to herself than anyone else in the room, though Harry got the impression that the rest of the witches and wizards believed it that much more with her statement.

"Tell me what you know about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."

Harry wasn't sure what to do. His hands were clammy and cold and he felt like he was betraying his godfather and everyone who knew about the situation by speaking with Madam Bones. Should he get up and leave now? Cut his losses and hope he'd not completely sold out his godfather?

"Mr. Potter," the woman said after a moment of tense silence, "do you know who I am? What I do here at the Ministry?"

"... No," Harry admitted. The woman raised an eye brow at the silent chair but continued anyway.

"I'm the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Harry felt the icy feeling in his stomach return with a vengeance. However, the woman's next statement made some of the cold sting ebb away.

"If there's been injustice in Sirius Blacks sentencing, I would be a poor Department Head to not correct that injustice." Harry looked back up at the woman with shock and a tiny bit of hope written on his face.

"Do I need to have a turn in the chair?" the woman asked, the first trace of emotion appearing on her face in the form of the slightest upturn in the corners of her mouth. He might've missed it if he hadn't have had the practice at reading Professor McGonagall's emotions at Hogwarts.

It was all he needed to delve into a highly edited version of his third year. He managed to tell the whole tale without any squeaks from his chair, and the whole time the people in the room listened with rapt attention, none daring to ask a question or interrupt except for the few instances when someone would look at the man beside Harry to have him cast another round of spells to check to see if the chair was still working. Each time, the man gave the same answer.

By the end, Madam Bones looked as exhausted as Harry felt.

"I see," she finally said after a long moment of regarding him. "Susan always said trouble seemed to follow you." Harry smiled meekly in response.

"What is the meaning of this?" someone boomed as they came through the doors of the room, startling everyone. Harry whipped around in his chair again to see Dumbledore looking furiously at Madam Bones who returned a glare just as intense. Harry sensed a bit of bad blood, but wasn't sure why the two would be pitted against each other.

"We just had a few clarifying questions for Mr. Potter," Madam Bones explained lightly, though there was a very real steel in her voice, as if daring the headmaster to challenge her claim.

"Young Harry has already been cleared, there should be no need for extended questioning," Dumbledore shot back, a bite in his voice Harry hadn't ever heard before.

"Sir, everything-"

"Come, Harry," the headmaster interrupted, leaving no room for him to decide to do anything but follow the headmaster out of the room. He glanced up at Madam Bones, but saw her face soften an iota at his glance and nodded for him to follow the headmaster out of the courtroom.

"It was a pleasure getting to meet you, Mr. Potter," the woman said as he stood to leave. "Perhaps we can meet again under better circumstances. And I'll be sure to see justice is carried out."

"Harry," the headmaster said impatiently, causing Harry to turn and frown at the man who still wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Thank you, Madam Bones. I look forward to it," he replied, doing his best to reflect his sincerity while ignoring the headmaster. He then followed Dumbledore out of the courtroom to an anxiously pacing Mr. Weasley.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley rushed up to him and gave a brief hug. He was touched by the man's concern and felt a little guilty for making him worry. "That was much longer than I'd been expecting. I got worried and called Dumbledore back after he'd left."

"I trust you can manage to get him back to headquarters?" Dumbledore asked Mr. Weasley, doing his level best to thoroughly pretend as if Harry couldn't hear him speak.

"Sir," Harry tried interrupting, getting tired of the headmasters dismissive attitude towards him.

For a moment, it seemed like the headmaster would continue to act as if Harry wasn't even there, but after what seemed like a split second of indecision, the man finally looked into his eyes for the first time in what seemed like months.

And almost immediately, Harry collapsed as a searing pain shot through his scar and into his mind.

**AN**: HO BOY! There seemed to be quite a few guesses as to who would be showing up for Harry's trial. I had been floating the idea of using the Greengrass family back in my first draft for this chapter, but had decided against it for various reasons and instead chose the route you all just read. Other authors seem to like either using truth serums or pensive memories when they change up the hearing at the ministry. Both have their flaws, and I'm sure some of you are already trying to find them in my own choice as well, but I'd like to imagine that an enchanted chair that's been sitting in the Department of Mysteries for centuries and is only brought up for special cases adds a bit to the world and makes you wonder, what else does the Ministry have down in the mysterious Department of Mysteries? Thank you for all the wonderful feedback you've been leaving, and I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	9. The Talk

**CHAPTER 9**

**~THE TALK~**

The first thing Harry was aware of when he became… aware… was that he was flat on his back in some kind of endless, featureless white space.

And that there was a brightly coloured red fox on his chest that felt oddly light.

However, almost as soon as he had gained his awareness, the agile creature leapt off of him, troted a few steps, then turned around and sat, staring at him with its cat like green eyes, as if waiting.

"Where am I?"

The creature only cocked it's head in confusion before bounding off a little ways more and looking back over its shoulder, again, seeming to wait for him.

"Right," he murmured to himself as he got up. "Why would a fox talk to me?"

Standing proved to be an odd task when the ground below was a uniform whiteness without a hint of shadow helping to give him depth perception. Even his first few steps as he moved to follow the red fox as it bounded through the endless whiteness was a little tricky.

Neither of them seemed to have an idea where they were going; the fox would dart to the left for a couple of bounds, then to the right for a few bounds more, sometimes doubling back just to keep Harry on his toes. There was nothing for as far as he could see, hear, or even smell. Just absolute nothingness, the fox, and him.

And then suddenly, there wasn't.

Just as he was starting to get fed up with the seemingly pointless and aimless following of the creature, he heard a whispered hissing that sent shivers down his spine. Then he saw black cracks that seemed to simply exist in mid-air, growing on nothing. He glanced over at the fox who was now in a crouching position with it's teeth bared, as if ready to attack something. He looked back over at the floating cracks and realized why.

Writhing out of the cracks were snakes.

At first, it was only a couple. However, Harry felt a primal fear begin to build as the cracks that existed in the strange white space began to grow until the volume of serpents coming out was like a waterfall of vipers. Panicked, he did the first thing he could think of that might help.

"Stop!" he tried commanding in Parseltongue.

However, unlike every other time he had focused on speaking the language of snakes, he didn't hear the strange hissing issue from his lips, but a high, frightened voice spoken in plain English. Regardless, the cracks seemed to immediately seal, severing several dozen snakes that, instead of turning into a gory mess, dissipated into black smoke. The snakes that had already fallen from the fissures, however, were still a real, at least subjectively, threat.

Almost as soon as he had that thought, the red fox pounced, it's razor sharp teeth snapping at the writhing mass of serpents. Each snake it bit down upon made the reptile vanish in a dark, smoke-like mist. The fox worked with an efficiency and grace that mesmerized him, its stunning agility allowing it to avoid the snapping jaws of countless venomous Adders. When the last snake disappeared, the fox sniffed at the air, as if checking to see if there were any more it had missed, and then turned to Harry, a keen look in its green eyes.

He felt something within him stir, but just as he was beginning to feel he urge to do… something, an interruption called out.

"Harry?" a far off voice called from somewhere, causing him to turn and try to find the origin of the muffled female calling out to him.

He turned back towards the fox, hoping it would somehow have an answer for him, but when he looked to where the creature was supposed to be, it was gone. Slightly panicked about having no real clue what was happening, he frantically looked around the empty white space, and even though he had no real perception of its size, he felt it getting smaller and smaller.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as he awoke, for real this time, it seemed. The woman rushed forward and began to check him over, giving him a mini-hug or forehead kiss between each of her examinations. He spotted Sirius near the door of the room sporting a relieved and amused expression at Mrs. Weasley's fussing. Standing further inside the room, near where Mrs. Weasley had been, was Tonks, who seemed to be sporting mellow peach coloured hair.

"Enough of that, Molly," Moody said as he hobbled into view from the hallway, having apparently kept his magical eye on the room. "The boy needs space to breathe."

"What happened?" Harry asked the ex-Auror as soon as Mrs. Weasley had backed off with an upset scoff and retook her position near Tonks.

"No one's quite sure, yet," Sirius provided, pushing away from the door frame to sit in a chair beside Harry, earning a disapproving scowl from Mrs. Weasley.

Catching where his godson was looking, Sirius seemed to think better of continuing the current discussion and instead gave Harry a meaningful look telling him the conversation would be saved for later before changing course to safer waters.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, reaching over and giving Harry's arm a squeeze.

"A bit of a headache," Harry replied meekly as he rubbed his scar a bit, noticing his forehead felt warmer than normal. "And a bit hot too, I suppose."

"I'll grab some potions," Tonks said, moving to leave the room.

"Don't drop them," Sirius teased with a small grin. The woman turned around and stuck a much larger tongue than normal at him while also greatly enlarging her ears and eyes in a comical display before nearly falling over from not paying attention to where she was going. Moody rolled both his eyes at the junior Auror while sighing dramatically.

"How was the trial?" Sirius asked once his niece had left.

"Cleared of all charges," Harry grinned. He would have liked to have said he'd known from the outset that the dismissal of his crimes was the inevitable outcome, but even when everyone had been telling him there was virtually no case against him, he had felt an unease and uncertainty that he now mostly felt free of. And, after seeing the angered face of Fudge, who had been complaisant with besmirching him in the national paper all summer, he felt like a bit of smugness was earned. Sirius seemed to agree if his wide grin was any indication.

"Arthur said you had been held much longer than he expected," Mrs. Weasley said, cutting into the moment a bit. Harry's smile faltered as he remembered Dumbledore's second, and much less appreciated, entrance into the courtroom chamber.

"Yes, Madam Bones had wanted to ask me a few more questions after the hearing about some of the things that came up."

He couldn't stop himself from quickly glancing over at Sirius, a movement everyone in the room seemed to pick up on, Moody the fastest.

"What exactly 'came up'?" The gnarled man's normal eye squinted as his magical one stopped swivelling around and came to focus solely on Harry.

He shifted a bit in his bed, and while he certainly wasn't in an S class enchanted chair that squeaked at every lie, he was in an old bed that did its fair share of groaning.

"Well, she wanted to know about my Patronus," he began truthfully, if a bit evasively.

"Of course they would," Mrs. Weasley quickly said, not seeming to like Moody's impromptu interrogation of him. "Being able to cast one so young is something to be very proud about, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said gushingly as she moved to stand between him and Moody. However, even as she stepped in front of the man, he could still felt the electric blue eye on him.

"What else, boy. What else did you tell the head of the D.M.L.E.?" Moody asked deeply, using one arm to firmly move Mrs. Weasley to the side, hobbling up to the foot of Harry's bed. Again, he felt his godfather reassuringly squeeze his arm and felt his guilt triple. What if Madam Bones _had_ been lying?

"Harry?" Sirius asked from his side, pushing him over the edge.

"She knows about Sirius," he said, looking straight at his sheet covered lap. He heard Mrs. Weasley gasp and felt the reassuring hand on his arm slacken. After another beat of stifling silence, Moody's gravelly voice broke the tense atmosphere.

"Tell me what she knows."

The ex-Aurors voice was calm in a way that was somehow more horrible sounding to Harry than any shouted demand he'd received at the Dursleys.

He gave Moody the same exact story he'd given to Madam Bones, while also telling the man the bits he'd kept to himself. The whole time, Mrs. Weasley's face was stuck in a perpetual grave expression, shifting from him, to his godfather. Sirius occasionally added something for Moody's benefit, but mostly kept silent, letting him tell his tale.

Once he was done, Moody let his eyes dance between the two in front of him, their darting going in and out of sync.

"It's not as bad as it could be," he said at last.

"Not as ba-!" Mrs. Weasley finally exploded, obviously feeling differently. "Were you even listening to him?! Harry! You could've died! Well over fourteen times by my count!"

"That was just third year…" he mumbled, but in the quiet aftermath of Mrs. Weasley's shouting, everyone clearly heard.

"Wha-! Young man, are yo-"

However, before she could begin her rant, Sirius cut in with a strong steel in his voice.

"Enough, Molly. He's been through enough today."

"And _you_!" Mrs. Weasley said, an accusatory finger joining her pointed stare at Sirius, his stern voice only seeming to embolden her mood. "You put not only _him_, but a _whole school of children_ in danger-"

"Enough!" Moody growled, slamming his staff that he had seemed to conjure from nowhere. Everyone was quiet as Moody's eye spun around the room, staring at each person in turn.

"What's happened has happened, no time-turners around to fix it this time. We'll have to change some plans, but Madam Bones knowing the truth _might_ work to our advantage. _IF_ we act quickly. Molly," Moody said, his magical eye going white for a moment as it focused on Mrs. Weasley behind him.

Mrs. Weasley was slow to respond, her heated glare still firmly on Sirius who hadn't left Harry's side, something he felt very comforted by.

"MOLLY!" Moody shouted, starling her from her stare. "Get word to your husband about what Mrs. Bones knows. It wouldn't do for us to try and mislead her now. Sirius," the man's eyeball swung back around to focus on his godfather. "It's more important than ever to remain out of sight."

He saw his godfather slouch a bit and felt a pang of guilt rush through him yet again.

"Now, let's give Mr. Potter a bit more time to rest up. Tonks, you can come in now."

Tonks, who had apparently been waiting just outside the door, came in with some potions. Apparently she couldn't do much to hide her embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping despite her being a Metamorphmagus, because her cheeks were just as red as her now brightly coloured hair. After giving him the potions and making sure he drank them, she left with Molly and Moody. Sirius was the last to leave and gave him a tired smile as he did.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from fretting over what he'd told Madam Bones. It had seemed a good idea at the time, but now that Sirius looked more like a beaten dog than ever, he began to doubt if it had been a good time to put even more heat on his godfather by confiding in the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

As Harry replayed the trial in his head, he inevitably came back to the moment he'd finally looked Dumbledore in the eye after what had seemed like months.

He'd felt an overwhelming, all consuming Hate take a hold of him in that moment. Hate on a level he'd not felt in his entire life. But why? Harry felt _many_ ways about Dumbledore at any given time, and while recently he had noticed an up-tick in the amount of times he felt frustrated and irate towards the man, he'd never quite managed to feel so loathsome of him. And then there had been the pain from his scar. Reflecting, he realized it had been bothering him the whole time he'd been down in the Department of Mysteries, but hadn't payed it much mind with his focus being solely on the hearing at the time.

Even now, thinking about the strange sense of familiarity he had felt when he stepped off the lift in the ministry, his head began to throb. Or perhaps it was the potions he'd just taken... Either way, Harry tried his hand at resting again and settled into a fitful few hours of sleep before Ginny came to wake him up.

"Harry?" She easily called him from his shallow slumber.

Once he got his bearings, he self-consciously ran his hand through his hair a bit, knowing it was a futile endeavour but a comforting one all the same.

"Ginny," he nodded in greeting. "What time is it?" he continued, glancing around for a clock or window. He did manage to spot a window in the room, but apparently this area hadn't been cleaned yet, as it was still caked over in dirt and grime, giving Harry no better idea of the hour.

"It's nearly supper."

After a moment of silence during which she seemed to debate with herself, she quickly added, "I'm glad you're coming back. To Hogwarts, that is."

"You know?" Harry asked.

"Yes. So do Ron, Hermione, Fred and George. Extendable ears," Ginny said by way of explanation.

Harry had seen the twins using the devices to try and listen in on the order meetings, but had never joined in, knowing Sirius would fill him in better than any distorted sounds that came through their prototype eavesdropping tools.

"How much did you hear?" Harry hedged, not sure how to feel about his friends listening in on him. He wasn't upset about what they may have heard, he'd have told them anything if they'd asked, but the fact that they had eavesdropped at all…

"Just that you were cleared," Ginny admitted quickly. "I told them to stop, that you'd tell them everything anyway, and Ron and Hermione were able to stop the twins from listening to anything more."

"Thanks for doing that, Ginny. It… means a lot." Ginny smiled brightly at him and Harry felt himself shade a bit.

"Oh!" Ginny suddenly said, breaking Harry's sudden bashfulness. "Our Hogwarts lists came in, and you'll never guess what came in with Ron's."

"What?" Harry asked anxiously, glad that Ginny had provided a distraction for him.

"A prefect's badge!" she immediately replied.

Harry was floored. Ron? A prefect?

"I know!" Ginny said, reading Harry's stunned expression. "The only one who wasn't completely taken back was mum. Even Hermione wasn't sure how to react, caused a bit of a row, actually. Nearly everyone thought it'd be you."

"Me?" Harry replied, surprised, flattered, and a fair bit confused. "I mean, don't you have to stay out of trouble to be a prefect? That certainly doesn't sound like me, as much as I try. Neville's probably the best choice out of everyone in Gryffindor." Ginny seemed to mull this over for a second before nodding slightly, but quickly shook her head.

"Still, Ron? I love my brother, but… Ron? A prefect?"

He and Ginny allowed the room to quiet as they both thought over what must've happened for Ron to receive the position he'd been given before he decided to break the silence.

"Any clue on the Defence professor?"

"None," Ginny answered succinctly. "Hermione says she recognized the title of the required text this year, but that the book collection was dreadfully bland and unhelpful. And that's coming from Hermione."

Harry got a sinking feeling in his gut. Defence Against the Dark Arts was one subject he felt should be emphasized at Hogwarts with as much talk about Dark Lords that went on, but with the constant shuffle of professors, their education in the subject was spotty at best. He found himself distractedly wondering what Mr. Greengrass' education in the subject had been like. He'd need to write the man soon too, if for no other reason than to apologize for putting him in danger.

"Anything else I should know before facing the choir?" he asked, finally removing himself from bed.

"Sirius has been a bit… removed since this afternoon," Ginny said gently. "Mum hasn't been helping that at all, of course. She's even been giving Hermione a bit of gruff for her involvement with everything back in your third year. Ron's badge distracted her a bit, but she'll be back on it before the end of supper. Mr. Lupin left early this morning after you and dad went to the ministry. Said something about how he had to get back to the mission Dumbledore put him on."

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry nodded, causing the girl to flush slightly before she composed herself quickly.

The letters this summer had seemed to help her quite a bit, if Harry was being honest, and he was glad they had. Ron's younger sister was pleasant company when she wasn't falling over herself in front of him. They chatted casually on their way to dining room, quieting themselves as they passed Sirius' mother.

Once they reached the dinner table, they sat down next to each other as Mrs. Weasley finished putting the last dish of food on the table.

"Tuck in!" Mrs. Weasley said, prompting a controlled madness all across the table. Harry and Ginny weren't able to talk much during the meal, the cacophony of noise enough to make any conversation between people who were even right next to each other impractical.

Despite this, he noticed his godfather glancing towards him and Ginny every once in a while, a small smirk crossing his face before he quickly turned away and donned his more dour expression. Even the twins, occupied as they were with talking with Mundungus, shot occasional grinning expressions his way when they thought him not looking.

"Who's up for some pudding?" Mrs. Weasley asked, knowing full well no one would turn down whatever dessert she'd cooked up for the evening.

As soon as she'd left the table, Sirius gave Harry the signal he'd been expecting for nearly the whole meal, telling him tonight would be a night they'd meet up in the drawing room again. His stomach knotted at the thought. He usually looked forward to these rendezvous, when an adult, never mind they acted more like someone his own age at times, treated him as a peer and not some child to be coddled. Now, however, he was slightly dreadful of meeting with his godfather who he felt he'd sold out to Amelia Bones.

He tried enjoying the wonderful dish Mrs. Weasley placed in front of him, but couldn't seem to put his heart into enjoying the sweet food. When everyone was excused, he quickly headed to his bedroom, hoping to avoid the questions he knew he'd be asked about his hearing. However, he should've known he'd not be so lucky. He'd been alone for no longer than half a minute when Ron came into the room closely followed by Hermione.

"Didja' hear, Harry? I got made a prefect!" Ron said as soon as he spotted Harry on his bed.

"Ron," Hermione quickly chastised as she closed the door to the room, "don't you think we should be asking about his trial before we go off about being prefects?"

"But we already know he got off?" Ron replied confusedly, glancing back at Hermione as she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"It's fine Hermione," Harry tried soothing with a forced grin that only managed to convince Ron. Withering slightly under Hermione's gaze, he quickly turned to Ron. "Congratulations mate! You deserve it."

"Well, I hadn't thought so at first," Ron admitted humbly before completely shattering any illusion of humility. "But then I began to think about it... Maybe Dumbledore thought I should get it after all the help I provided when you protected the school and the stone back in our first year, and then that Basilisk business with Ginny-"

"Ron!" Hermione quickly shouted, swatting at his arm, though Harry noticed she had been going for his head before thinking better of it. "You sound amazingly similar to a blond headed prat we know back at Hogwarts right now. A little bit of humility goes a long way."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry defended his friend. "There's a huge difference between Ron recounting his actual heroic deeds among friends and Malfoy gloating about his fanciful power."

It was true that Ron was being a bit of a braggart, but Harry was fine with letting Ron shine a bit of spotlight on himself. In a household of multiple older brothers, some of who were already in well established and successful careers, Ron probably felt more than a little pressure to measure up. Letting him have his time in the sun among friends wasn't such a bad thing, was it? Ron gave him an appreciative grin as Hermione gave the both of them a doubtful scowl.

"Well, so long as he doesn't do it in front of anyone else…" Hermione finally relented, causing Ron's grin to grow a hundred fold, "AND limits how often he does it in front of me," she quickly added, tempering Ron's smile just a smidgen, "I suppose I'll let him spout off at least a little self-promotion."

"Oh, well, so long as it pleases the great Granger," Ron mock bowed while Hermione's face contorted in disgust.

"Please never call me Granger again, Ronald," Hermione requested in a haughty voice. "It sounds much too cold to hear it from friends," she added more seriously. Everyone sobered a bit before Ron decided to get the conversation flowing again.

"So, how was the trial? Everyone's been a bit mum about the details. We only know you've been cleared."

He decided to keep hidden the fact that he knew they'd eavesdropped on him and instead filled his friends in about the trial, going into detail about the whole thing. He even debated telling them about his strange dream, but ultimately decided against it. Even he wasn't sure what it was all about, and he doubted it was anything relevant. After all, if he started spouting some blither about foxes and snakes, they might try to get him to see someone about his sanity. They might even try to get Dumbledore's help, as unlikely as the man was to do anything for him, he thought bitterly.

Besides, he didn't want to establish a precedent of telling them every little thing he went through. He did enjoy his privacy when he was able to have it, so he'd keep it to himself until it became relevant to tell them.

"So that's what had my mum all up in a tizzy," Ron commented, looking over at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione said testily, noticing Ron's glance. "Are you going to go off on me too?!"

"What?! No!" Ron denied, putting up his hands. Hermione looked a little abashed and replaced her scowl with an embarrassed blush as she turned away.

"I was just thinking that only you would risk going mad from time travel to get more schooling," Ron explained as Hermione's blush intensified causing her to draw in on herself even further.

"How was I supposed to know what courses to take otherwise?" She meekly defended. Harry and Ron shared a smile at their friends expense before they began discussing more about the upcoming year. Each began to make predictions about the new Defence teacher and what the class would be like. It wasn't long before it became late and Hermione retired for the evening, returning to the room she shared with Ginny.

It only took a few minutes for him to hear Ron's snores. He waited a bit longer for the rest of the house to go to sleep and then crept out the room, now knowing the silent spots on the floor just as he did back on Privet Drive.

"Sirius?" he called out once he'd made it to the drawing room.

"There you are," Sirius said from within the room, already seated on the chair he usually used during these meetings. "I was beginning to think I'd been too subtle with my signal and you weren't going to show."

The room was significantly cleaner than it had been the first time they met up. The moonlight flowing into the room was no longer obscured by years of grime and lit the room in a soft glow, showing off the family tapestry that had scorch marks every so often along it's branches. Sirius had gone over it with him one time and had been surprised that he had relatives on the tree. While Charlus and Dorea Potter weren't directly related to him, it had been interesting to find out that his grandfather's brother had married someone in the black family.

"Sorry," he apologized to his godfather as he sat in his own chair that no longer blew dust when sat in.

"Don't apologize," Sirius waved off, "I was actually hoping I'd have a valid reason to hold off on this conversation even longer than I already have, but I suppose I should start making good on my godfatherly duties."

"Godfatherly duties?" he repeated back, a small chuckle in his voice, worries about Amelia Bones a thousand miles away. "What are you on about?" Sirius allowed himself a small smile but became a bit more serious as he spoke again.

"Harry… have you, um, heard about the birds and the bees?"

Harry quickly stopped his smiling and felt himself flush quickly, wishing himself back in bed and sleeping.

While he had gotten a very truncated version a few years ago from his uncle that had mostly consisted of threats of what would happen if he were to ever try creating another freak in his house, he knew his knowledge about the 'magical time' he was supposed to go through in his teenage years, and not the one that had anything to do with being a wizard going to Hogwarts, was most likely sorely lacking.

He wasn't completely clueless, Harry thought. There were stories he heard in the dormitories and he obviously saw some changes in the mirror… and in his classmates. But he had always assumed he'd cross any bridges he needed to when he got to them.

"I'm going to take your protracted silence as a 'no'," Sirius said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I don't want to read into anything too much," Sirius began, settling into his chair, "but when I saw you and Ginny come down to dinner together, all smiles, I remembered the distinct lack of… proper adult instruction in your life. I know much of the blame for that falls on my own shoulders, but I want to start doing right by you and your parents."

Harry watched on in silence as Sirius blinked furiously.

"Still seems to be a bit of dust in the air," He said, wiping at his eyes with a cloth he pulled from his robes. He knew there wasn't, of course. Mrs. Weasley hadn't let them leave the room until it was spotless, but he didn't call Sirius out.

"Lesson number one," Sirius began anew, making a point of showing him his handkerchief. "Always have one of these on you. There are too many situations they come in handy for you not to have one, even if it's not for yourself."

The next few hours of the night were spent between Harry and Sirius having a, at times, very frank, and at others, very humorous, and at others still, a very enlightening, conversation. He certainly felt like he had learned more than what he had wanted to know at the end of it all, but now felt more assured he wouldn't be committing any faux pas he'd nearly committed many times before.

"Thank you, Sirius," Harry said after a long pause in which he'd been using to digest everything he'd just heard.

"No, thank you, Harry," Sirius said after another moment. "Having you in my life again… it's making me realize I need to start growing up a bit more. When I went to Azkaban, I was just a few years older than you." Sirius' eyes get a far away look, going through years of memories in an instant. "I'm a grown man now, and need to begin acting like one."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each having their own thoughts about what Sirius had just said. Harry was becoming more and more hopeful that when he came back from Hogwarts this next year, he'd be able to come back to Sirius and that they would be able to live together properly.

"May I ask you something, Harry?"

"Of course," he turned to face Sirius who was staring at his charred spot on the Black family tree.

"Do you believe Madam Bones is going to re-investigate my case?"

The guilt that had been lurking in his mind now came flooding to the front at his godfathers question. But instead of the anger or rejection he'd expected from his godfather, there was a tone of hope. He could tell Sirius was trying to tamper it in his question, but Harry knew what it was like to ask these kinds of questions and could clearly read the doubt and hope that was warring in his godfather. Now that he was on the other side of the emotionally charged question, he understood why so many people seemed to hate being asked them.

But in this instance, he felt sure about his feelings on Madam Bones. He may not know the woman personally, and Susan he barely knew any better, but back in the courtroom, he had gotten the unshakable feeling she was honest and fair in her work. She hadn't felt like Fudge in all the instances he'd dealt with the man, saying something to get what they wanted or needed. If she said she wanted to fix any injustice Sirius had been served, she would fix it.

"Yes," he finally answered his godfather.

The room again fell into silence. After a while, Harry yawned widely and broke Sirius from his staring.

"Time for bed, I suppose," Sirius stood up, "don't need you getting all tired now, do we?"

Harry stood from his chair and surprised himself and Sirius by giving the man a hug.

"Thank you, Sirius," he said into the man's robes. Neither had to clarify what he was thankful for, as they both knew that in this moment he was thankful for everything.

"You're welcome, Harry."


	10. Mimbulus Mimbletonia

**CHAPTER 10**

**~MIMBULUS MIMBLETONIA~**

It had been nearly an hour since Harry had left the drawing room, yet Sirius still remained. His thoughts were spiralling around, all his failings as a friend to James, as a godfather to Harry, even as a member of the Order were flailing about in his mind, ripping at the delicate sense of sanity he'd built in the few years he'd been out of Azkaban.

After diner this evening, Moody had pulled him aside and had shown a photo of the old Order of the Phoenix. The ex-Auror had wanted to show the magical photograph to Harry, which Sirius quickly discouraged. He knew he wasn't as close to Harry as a godfather should be, but he at least knew how Harry would react to seeing so many people smiling up at him who had died because of Lord Voldemort.

Moody's heart had been in the right place, which had honestly surprised Sirius, but Harry wasn't such a simpleton that he'd just be happy to have another picture of his parents. No, Sirius knew, even with such little interaction with his godson, that Harry would focus on the fact the photo contained several people who'd been killed or tortured into insanity, who would never be able to smile as they were in the photo again.

Sirius pulled the photo out from his robes, his eyes immediately gravitating to the smiling faces of James and Lily. They looked up at him as if he could do no wrong. A younger Remus and even a less haunted version of himself also joined in with their own grins and waves. His eyes simply passed over the visage of Peter and moved straight on to Alice and Frank. He looked over each and every one of the old Order members, not moving on from a face until he remembered their interactions together as members of an Order that was actually doing something against Voldemort and his followers.

And what were they doing now?

He wasn't a fool, contrary to what Molly may believe. Azkaban had certainly affected his psyche, but his logical mind still functioned with a startling clarity at times. He knew that public action against Voldemort at this stage was pointless and counter-productive. But Dumbledore's reactionary strategy wasn't going to win them this war, either. So far, all they'd been doing was sending ineffectual emissarys to groups they knew Voldemort would try to win the allegiance of.

He had no doubt that Remus was an exceptional man; in fact, the werewolf probably had more moral fibre than the whole Black family combined. But werewolf packs didn't respect moral fibre. They respected power. They respected werewolves like Fenrir Greyback, who was the complete antithesis of Moony. Remus could huff and puff until he blew down a brick house, but Greyback would always hold sway over what the largest packs in England did, and he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking they'd choose neutrality.

Rubeus Hagrid being sent as their representative to the giants was even more of a pointless endeavour. Sirius hadn't interacted with the man much, so he couldn't speak for his capabilities first hand, but he'd heard the Weasley children and Harry speak of the gamekeeper and what he'd heard gave him the impression that, whatever was the opposite of a silver tongue, was still about thirty times better than what Hagrid possessed. Even if he hadn't heard that nugget of information, hoping the giants would stay out of a conflict was like hoping the hull of a ship wouldn't get wet.

Dumbledore was certainly trying to give the Order the impression they were doing things, but he knew that he wasn't the only member who was beginning to realize they were biding time until Voldemort made his first public move. Even Harry was perceptive enough to see that the Order wouldn't do anything until something happened. And Sirius was deathly afraid that Voldemort's first public move would involve his godson.

Then, on top of their ineffectual war strategy, there was the blooming prophecy. The watches Dumbledore was instructing the Order to carry out for the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries troubled him. Sirius had clowned around in divination back in his third year with the rest of the Marauders, but had sensibly dropped it the next year, knowing it had only been a class that afforded him an opportunity to do whatever he wished for a period of time. Putting any stock into what was taught was a futile waste of resources. So why was Dumbledore so concerned about this particular prophecy? Any time someone asked about it, he'd say it wasn't his place to say. But when they asked whose place it was to say, topics were quickly changed to something else. It was maddening!

There was also the fact that Severus seemed to hold an unhealthy amount of his former headmasters trust. Every member of the Order had been repeatedly reassured of the git's trustworthiness, but Sirius remained unconvinced. Harry and Remus both had told him about Snivillus' cowardice at both the shop his godson had been working at as well as the park he'd attempted to take him to. Just thinking about it almost caused him to crumple the photo still in his hands. Why was Dumbledore putting so much faith in a man who clearly didn't have anyone's best interests in mind save his own?

Every time he spoke with Dumbledore about what he could try to do for the Order, or what the Order could do to be more active in its fight against Voldemort, he was told to be patient. That everything would work so long as they followed his plan. And of course, Dumbledore would never share the full details of that plan.

So, his logical mind told him that for any real, meaningful action to take place, it would have to take place _without_ Dumbledore. He would need to become a free agent. And for him to be a _free_ agent, he'd first need to be _free_.

When Harry had first told him and Moody about what had immediately occurred after his trail, he'd been rife with fear, not for himself, but for his godson and even his female friend, Hermione. They'd helped a 'convicted' wizard escape 'justice'. There were very steep punishments for such an offence, underage or not.

But whatever magical artefact Fudge had brought up from the Department of Mysteries to prove Harry a liar had backfired so spectacularly that it may have just given Sirius the foot in the door he needed to become a free man. To become the free agent he needed to be, to escape from under the thumb and watchful eye of Dumbledore.

He had been a powerful adversary against the Death Eaters back in the Order's heydays, taking out droves of the blighter's with James at his side. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking he was the same powerhouse he had been, Azkaban had taken more than a touch of his sanity, but it was never too late to start fixing things. He'd started that process with trying to become the godfather he was meant to be with Harry. But he had a long way to go. Harry deserved the best, and right now, Sirius wasn't able to give it to him.

"_Do you believe Madam Bones is going to re-investigate my case?"_

"_Yes."_

Well, it was a little difficult to re-investigate a case when you didn't have anyone to interview. Perhaps he could start by changing that.

Tucking the photo back into his robes, Sirius began to head off towards his reclaimed bedroom. His sleep was nearly non-existent, his mind continuing to swirl with too many thoughts.

The next morning, Molly headed off to Diagon Alley with a small force of Order Aurors and the children to collect all their school supplies. It had been a hard sell, but Dumbledore had finally caved in allowing the children to at least get out of the house to pick up their new school supplies.

He, however, was still restricted to the ancestral home of the Black family. Harry and everyone else's absence made him realize just how suffocating the house was when he was alone in it. After having company with him for so long, the brief few hours of solitude scared him. How would he handle it when everyone was off at Hogwarts or on missions for Dumbledore?

The seed of a plan he'd planted in his mind last night grew a little more, assuring him he wouldn't need to spend months in this prison that in some ways was worse than Azkaban could ever be.

Sirius began making preparations. Harry would leave for Hogwarts in just a couple of days, and the evolution to get him to Kings Cross Station would surely be an involved one. It would be the perfect time for him to execute his plan.

For the rest of the day, he hid himself away, only coming out for the evening meal and to ask Harry about how his shopping trip went. Whether his risky plan worked or not, he knew he only had a few more days to spend with his godson and he'd make the most of them.

* * *

This summer had been particularly dull for Luna. With the Weasleys gone, she had twice as many chores to do each day. Of course, that hadn't been the source of her doldrums. De-gnoming the garden, feeding the chickens, even leaving some raw meat out for the ghoul in the attic, all that had been fine and interesting compared to her normal routine. No, what made this summer dull wasn't the work, but lack of company.

The Weasleys had left almost right at the beginning of the summer holidays, and while none of them had given her a solid answer on where their surprise trip would take them, she was certain it was somewhere very important and so had immediately volunteered to carry out some of the basic chores they would need done while they were away. Of course she had their endless gratitude, but gratitude hadn't brought Ginevra back for their irregularly scheduled meet ups.

Luna raised her copy of the Quibbler just a bit higher as she continued to wait for the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 to open up. The first year she had travelled to Hogwarts, her father had brought her to the muggle train station a bit early, and she continued to show up early every year after, as a way for her to reinforce the happy memory.

He had wanted to conduct some first-hand observations of muggles in their natural habitat for an article he'd been writing at the time about how muggles could dismiss clear evidence of magic that occurred right in front of them. What he discovered was that most muggle's were infested with Wrackspurts. What was even more terrible was that none of them could be bothered to think positive enough thoughts to dispel the befuddling creatures. Her father had concluded that muggles must be terribly unhappy all the time to never clearly see the magic in their daily lives.

A boy a bit younger than herself broke her from her sad musings on muggles as he tentatively felt the barrier wall. When his hand sunk into the wall, he smiled devilishly towards an on looking wizard who did a decent job of blending in with the rest of the Muggles. She then noticed there were quite a few witches and wizards who didn't do quite as well with blending in.

She patiently waited on her bench as witches and wizards walked through the wall in plain view of muggles who would catch a bit of the disappearing act, look on in shock, and then shake their heads, a reflexive move to try and unsuccessfully clear it of Wrackspurts, before carrying on as if they'd not seen anything.

She briefly wondered if the ministry paid the Wrackspurts for their part in maintaining the Statute of Secrecy; Minister Fudge had to do something with all the money he was extorting out of the goblins. However, she quickly dismissed the idea, someone who was able to squeeze Galleons out of goblins probably didn't pay creatures who made you ignorant to their existence.

Luna was about to get up and head through the barrier herself when she stopped herself and instead observed one of the train guards.

He was the nearest one to the barrier, being on platform 10, and had an amazingly white, clean, smile. His uniform was very well pressed, all the seams stood out crisply, and his pocket watch chain glittered in the dim lighting that made it into the corridor. But Luna's eyes couldn't be pulled from the his astonishingly white smile for more than a few fleeting moments.

She forcibly raised her copy of the Quibbler up past her eyes to break her staring. White teeth were hardly anything to stare at or be surprised about. They were quite common... In the wizarding world. Muggles, however, with their lack of magic, had to actually go about and spend a bit of time maintaining their teeth. In fact, she heard that a muggle born girl in Gryffindor who Ginevra was friends with had parents who were tooth healers. Perhaps she could get her to do an article for the Quibbler?

Luna quickly thought about hugging her father to clear her mind from the Wrackspurts. She wouldn't be distracted now. Slowly, she lowered her Quibbler until she could once again see over the top of it. She scanned the station for any muggles who were smiling so she could see their teeth, though she quickly came to the same conclusion her father had came to years ago; muggles must be terribly unhappy.

Slowly, she gazed back towards the guard on platform 10 and had to hold back a small jump as she found the man with the clean smile smiling directly at her. He tipped his hat like any gentleman should, and she dipped her head like the young lady she was, but after their required pleasantries, she quickly picked up her trunk and walked as quickly as she could through the barrier, hoping the Wrackspurts would do their job in making any muggles who'd been watching brush off her sudden disappearance.

Without wasting time on the platform, Luna quickly boarded the Hogwarts Express, found an empty compartment, and took a moment to calm herself before placing her trunk into the rack above her seat. She then plopped down on the seat and began to start on an article in her Quibbler that was about the break-through in a set of runes that had been undecipherable until someone had decided to turn them upside down.

A little after the train had begun it's journey towards Hogwarts, Luna heard a muffled conversation. Straining her ears slightly, she managed to hear the end of something Ginevra said from just beyond the door of her compartment.

"- be silly, she's all right."

Luna smiled a bit behind her copy of the Quibbler as the door slid open.

* * *

If a book about the last few years in Magical Britain were to be written, Daphne figured she would be lucky to be in a footnote. Maybe she'd get mentioned if the book happened to talk about cursed families? But then, her family curse was supposed to be a secret, so maybe not.

But she was sure about one thing. Any book written about the last few years of Magical Britain would be sure to mention the name Harry Potter. Especially, it seemed, if it were about this past year in particular.

Before, the name had been annoying background noise. All through her life, she knew Harry Potter existed. She heard stories about what he did in varying lights depending on who was pushing what narrative.

When she came to Hogwarts, she, like everyone else, Draco Malfoy included, had been anxious to see and possibly get to know the boy personally. But Harry Potter proved to her what she had suspected all along.

Harry Potter was just an overly mentioned name.

In fact, she figured that if his parents hadn't have died, he'd be even more obscure than the Greengrass' were. The Potters were known for their reclusive nature after all, only sticking out when something went firmly against their moral grain, and Wizarding Society was normally temperate enough not to rankle the Potters feathers.

But something about the last Dark Lord had rankled the Potters' feathers. Or perhaps, she suddenly mused, the Potters had rankled the Dark Lord's. Either way, ire had been earned and the end result was an orphan who was known for having survived something that was un-survivable.

Many thought it was something special about Harry Potter. And those thoughts were hard to dispel and dismiss when he somehow wound up in every controversy the school seemed to have on a yearly basis. Suddenly absent professors, petrified students, loose mass murders, and now a _T__ri_wizard tournament with _four_ participants. It was maddening that the background noise that had been Harry Potters name was starting to become an all encompassing rabble.

And as if the public sphere of Daphne's life hadn't been enough, the name and person behind it was now intruding upon her private sphere. Finding out he was working for her grandfather was a shock that she couldn't have foreseen even if she was taking divination seriously. But hearing the story about how he had saved her grandfather, first from her mother and then having her grandfather confirm it himself...

Harry Potter was just a name, she reminded herself. There was nothing special about him. Nothing extra. He simply had the exceedingly annoying habit of intruding upon others business.

"What are you huffing about?" Tracey asked, giving Daphne a glance over the book she'd chosen to read during their trip towards Hogwarts.

She briefly considered telling her friend about Potter's intrusion upon her summer and, consequentially, her personal life, but ultimately decided against it. To mention the name to her friend would simply incite unnecessary drama after what had happened over her friends own summer. Tracey herself still seemed on the fence about returning, even after her mother had ended up allowing it.

"How did Parkinson get to be a prefect?" she covered. It had honestly been something she'd been wondering, too. Not that she was envious of the title, but surely-

"I told Professor Snape I didn't want it," Tracey said, returning to her book disinterestedly.

"You turned it down?" She knew her friend would be the logical choice for prefect and had been slightly outraged on Tracey's behalf when she had thought she'd been passed over for Pansy. She'd not been expecting her friend to have given up the authority position. Tracey was all about that sort of thing.

"I thought I wouldn't be returning," Tracey reminded her, still not looking up from her book.

A part of her, a very small and quiet part, was troubled by her friend's distant behaviour. It wasn't anything too far off the mark, everyone in Slytherin had coping mechanisms and she knew Tracey liked to act far away and removed to keep from having to deal with otherwise unpleasant and intense feelings. But then again, she had thought that she and Tracey were close enough to lower some of those defences.

She had felt she could start to show more of her true self to Tracey, to remove some of the veneer she'd put over her more vulnerable flaws...

... Perhaps not just yet. After all, four years is hardly enough time to get to know someone enough to do something like that. Just a bit more time. Just a little longer before she and Tracey would be able to confide in each other like she knew her friend wanted. Needed. Much like herself.

"How was your summer?" Tracey asked, snapping her book closed.

Daphne smiled. She knew she was right. Tracey was warming to her. Perhaps this year would be the year when breakthrough moment for their friendship occurred.

"Mostly the same as last," Daphne half-lied. "My birthday party wasn't quite the same without you, though. Even Longbottom's party managed to become more bland without you. Bulstrode tried to strike up something but..."

She really didn't have anything personal against her fellow Slytherin. Millicent Bulstrode hadn't been much to look at when they were younger, but puberty was doing her some favours and she had learned at Longbottom's party she was on a special diet as well. However, Tracey found the girl repulsive for whatever reason. Daphne had been too afraid to ask what that reason was in their first year when she had decided to befriend the pretty face of Tracey over the pudgy face of Millicent.

"That troll wouldn't be able to get a conversation started with a horny McLaggen if she were naked," Tracey said harshly, a sneer rivalling one of Draco's crossing her face. Daphne dutifully smirked at the degrading comment, glad she hadn't tried putting Millicent in a favourable light like she'd almost done.

They exchanged a few more derogatory comments about various students before Draco came by their compartment, Pansy strangely absent from his side.

"Greengrass, Davis," he greeted respectfully, his usual sneer absent while in the presence of whom he considered proper pure-blood ladies.

"Malfoy," Tracey greeted back as Daphne dutifully dipped her head in greeting despite wishing she could just ignore the ponce.

The silent majority of Slytherin only put up with Draco because of his familial connections to nearly half of them. The other half were knowledgeable of his fathers uncanny ability to bring misfortune and ruin on anyone he pleased and wisely played ignorant to many of Draco's flaws and short-comings, especially when it came to representing Salazar's house.

She was glad she could say she had no blood ties with the Malfoys, but loathed the fact that this made her a target of Draco's unwelcome advances. What irked her even more was the protocol she had to follow in politely dealing with the Malfoy scion, least she earn the wrath of his father upon her entire family.

"Where is Parkinson?" she asked as Draco took a seat entirely to close her. He was still far enough away that a casual on-looker would assume them to be friends, but Daphne would much prefer Draco to be on another train entirely. "Don't prefects normally roam the cars together?" She continued, trying to delay the inevitable flirtatious banter Draco was sure to try and start up.

"She spotted some 'Puffs sneaking potions into the lavatory and is dealing with them. She'll be a while. Wanted to properly 'dispose' of the contraband," Draco grinned. Daphne moaned internally and momentarily thought about joining Pansy just to rid herself of Malfoy.

"I heard that mud-blood Granger and blood-traitor Weasley are Gryffindor prefects this year," Tracey said scathingly. Daphne would've liked to think her friend spoke up to help her out of an unpleasant situation, but it was more likely that Tracey just wanted to start another discussion that would involve insulting other students.

"That would've never been allowed when my father was still a governor on the board," Draco spat in disgust. "This school has gone to the dogs since then."

From there, she could predict every point the two would make as if it were a rehearsed bit required of them in a play.

So, she tuned herself out of the conversation for a bit, glad Tracey was distracting Draco and that Draco was distracting Tracey. It was draining, quite honestly, for her to come up with something she noticed about someone else at the school and extrapolate it to the point that their lives were less for some superficial flaw she'd observed. Draco, on the other hand, seemed to have something he loathed about everyone and had no problem telling just what it was he found abhorrent in others. He and Tracey were made for each other in that regard.

However despite the compatibility she saw between them, it was her that Draco pursued, even while in a relationship with Pansy. It was one of the main reasons she and Pansy couldn't seem to get along. That, and Pansy really wasn't the kind of person she wanted to spend time around in the first place.

The train ride to Hogwarts was almost complete by the time Pansy came around looking for Draco. She had difficulty maintaining her upright posture, let alone trying to speak. Draco dutifully joined her and left the compartment, Daphne nearly sighing with relief at his departure.

"Seeing her in that state with the badge… I almost regret passing it up now."

For the first time that day, Daphne found it was very easy for her to agree with Tracey. Yes, this year would certainly be the year her friendships blossomed.

* * *

"It's all right. You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too," Luna said from beside Harry as they both looked at the draconic horse.

"Can you?" Harry turned to look at her, a little more desperation than he would've liked sneaking into his voice.

"Oh yes," Luna smiled, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry, you're just as sane as I am."

Harry wasn't sure what to do with that statement. He'd not even heard of Luna Lovegood before a few hours ago, but he could already tell that something was different about her. What _kind_ of different, he wasn't sure yet, but he was keeping an open mind about it for the moment, especially now that it seemed they were sharing the same hallucination. Luna continued to give him her serene, faint smile before she got into the carriage Ron had just clambered into.

He gave one final look at the strange horse, it's milky white eyes bearing down on him causing him to shiver before he hastily climbed into the carriage after Luna. Once he'd sat down, the carriage jostled into motion towards the castle.

Ginny brought up the absence of Hagrid at the station platform, causing his friends to begin talking about what the half-giant might be up to. Harry, however, didn't need to wonder.

Sirius had told him that Dumbledore had sent Hagrid on a mission to try and parley with the Giants. Harry loved Hagrid, but he also knew that he would be out of his depth trying to carry out negotiations with Giants. All he could do was hope that his first adult friend would come back in one piece.

When Hogwarts finally came into view, his spirits rose and a smile managed to sneak onto his face. Being with Sirius for the tail end of his summer had been great, but Hogwarts had been, and still was, his first home.

Once they reached the front courtyard of the castle and were climbing out of their carriage, Harry managed to keep his vision from straying towards the creatures that had been pulling them and made his way through the entrance hall with his friends and classmates. Everyone's footsteps echoed loudly on the stone walls, putting a mild grin on Harry's face. The Great Hall still managed to take Harry's breath away, the pure magic of it all overwhelming him, even after five years.

Luna broke off from their group and headed over to Ravenclaw table while Ginny went to go sit with some of her fellow fourth years. With the seats starting to fill up, the largest open space was next to where Nearly Headless Nick had decided to haunt the Gryffindor table. Harry had never minded the house ghost, so gladly took the spots with Ron and Hermione taking their seats on either side of him and Neville sitting across the table, his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ pulsating strangely next to him. He barely registered the fake smiles he was given by Lavender and Parvati, his attention instead drawn in by the familiar sickening shade of pink he remembered from his hearing, now at the staff table.

"Harry?" Neville asked, being the first to see the revulsion on his face.

"She was at my hearing," he said, not taking his eyes off the woman. Neville quickly followed his stare along with the rest of his friends.

"That's Dolores Umbridge," Neville told everyone as they collectively gazed at the plump, pink woman. "She's the Undersecretary for Fudge."

"Why is she here?" Hermione's voice contained a note of worry that in turn made him start to worry too. "Dumbledore would have to know that she…"

"What? That she what?" Ron nervously asked, glancing back at a rapidly paling Hermione. Harry was also curious as to where his female friend had been going with her chain of thought, but before he could prod her to enlighten them all, Professor McGonagall walked regally into the hall with a procession of new students in her wake. In her hands was a well-worn stool and on top of it, an even more worn-out pointed hat. Conversation faded in the hall as she placed the stool at the front of the hall in front of the staff table. Once she stepped back, any noise that had been lingering in the hall all but vanished; everyone anticipating the song the Sorting Hat would sing.

It didn't disappoint.

It's plea for unity wasn't exactly new, but the forwardness of it's message was, and had Harry send a tentative glance at the other house tables. His glance turned into something of a stare when his eyes paused on Luna at Ravenclaw table. There was a distinct space around her that Harry innately recognized from his time being a social pariah last year.

And his second year.

And in muggle primary school.

There was a brief silence, the only warning he got before the loud applause from everyone in the castle broke Harry from his gaze as he joined in with the clapping. However, unlike all the years prior, there seemed to be a bit of discussion among people during the thunderous clapping.

"That last bit sounded a bit like a warning," Hermione turned towards Ron and him as the room began to descend further into murmuring.

"What? Sorry, I missed that bit," he said, trying to sound apologetic to a huffing Hermione.

"_Oh, know the perils, read the signs_?" Hermione tried to unsuccessfully jog Harry's non-existent memory of the song. "_For our Hogwarts is in danger_? Harry, it was basically telling us-"

"Abercrombie, Euan," Professor McGonagall said sternly, her gaze so scorching that Hermione went as red as a flame.

Euan, along with a few other new students joined Gryffindor table with warm welcome. However, like every year before, no one clapped for a student who went to a house that wasn't theirs. So much for unity.

When Dumbledore stood to make his welcoming speech, Harry knew he wanted to feel soothed, to be reassured. He wanted all the troubles of his summer to disappear behind him, leaving only the positive notes of which there had been a surprising amount. But much to his annoyance, he felt the burning ember of hate that seemed to glow angrily at anything concerning Dumbledore. It took most of the self restraint he possessed to not growl as the headmaster gave his speech. Once again, it was an applause that broke Harry out from his concentration.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron asked, giving him a concerned look. Harry was a bit surprised his friend had managed to put his supper off for the few seconds it had taken to check on him. He really was giving the emotion stuff a go, wasn't he?

"Later," Harry said, giving the people around them a meaningful look that his three friends around him understood. There was a brief silence as they all loaded up their plates, his friends no doubt wondering what had bothered him and Harry trying to put it out of his mind. Finally, Hermione broke the silence with a question she directed to the ghost who was wistfully watching them all eat.

"Sir Nicholas? Has the Sorting Hat ever given warnings like it just did before?"

"Hum?" Nick shook his head as if clearing it, causing it to wobble forebodingly. "Oh, yes. Yes, the hat has given the advice to stand together and to be strong from within many times over, always during periods when it detects a great danger to the school."

"Buffisfahaff," Ron said, his mouth full of a roll he'd recently bit into. Everyone in the general vicinity glared at Ron, all of them once again realizing that they would have to do their best to ignore his imprudent table manners for yet another year. Catching on to the disgust directed at him Ron had the mind to swallow his food before attempting to repeat his question.

"But it's a hat."

Harry kept himself from sighing as Hermione scoffed without reservation. He loved Ron, he was great company at times. Other times… well…

"Yes," Nick stared at Ron very intensely. "Very good of you to notice. But surely, you've cottoned on to the fact it's also a _magical __artefact_ in addition to being a _hat_, and that it just so happens to sit in the headmasters office all year? I dare say that even you might pick up a few things if you sat in there all year round."

Ron blushed as Neville held back a small smile of amusement at the ghosts biting remark. Nick, meanwhile, decided to see how frightened the first years would be of a ghost. Harry mulled over what the ghost had said while once again taking a look over at Luna who still had a noticeable empty space around her. Perhaps reaching out to people in other houses wouldn't be the most terrible thing he could do this year? And, if the hat wanted it, perhaps Luna wouldn't be the most terrible place to start. Sure, he could safely call her strange, but she'd also been one of the few people he'd met that wasn't immediately overly interested in him. She saw the strange horses as well, so there was already something-

"Eat up, Harry," Hermione chastised him, noticing he was staring instead of eating. She quickly followed his stare to the lonely Luna Lovegood and gave him an inquisitive glance, but said nothing as she returned to eating and studiously looking away from Ron as he continued to put anything that looked remotely edible onto his plate to eat only a second later.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," Dumbledore said once the sounds of eating started becoming second to the sounds of discussion. Harry decided that his treacle tart was a much more worth while item to focus on during the speech and mostly tuned the headmaster out as he tried enjoying his favourite pudding.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

Harry's head shot up at the simpering voice of the women who had asked about Voldemort's return at his hearing. Umbridge had a vacuous smile as she addressed the sea of students. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff, however, watched her with a wide range of emotion from open amusement in Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, to restrained irritation in McGonagall's.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

There was a visible recoil among the students at being addressed in such a demeaning way. Even Professor McGonagall managed to look more stern after the new Defence teachers belittling address. However, no one stood up to stop her, not even Dumbledore. Harry got a sinking feeling in his very being, like he was falling through the floor as he began to realize that his hopes for a competent Defence education, something he'd sorely need now that Lord Voldemort was back, would once again be an unrealized dream.

Umbridge continued her speech to the frowning students, but Harry could hardly catch any real meaning in the double speak the woman was using. Once she'd finished, Dumbledore retook his position while giving the short woman a small bow.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating. Now, as I was saying…"

However, Harry felt that Umbridge had been the antithesis of illuminating and that things were now more shrouded in confusion than before. Hermione looked concerned about something, but didn't speak up during Dumbledore's address, probably hoping to set a good example now that she had a shiny prefect badge on her chest.

Once Dumbledore wrapped up with the start of term speeches, Ron and Hermione rounded up the first years to take them upstairs to the dorms. Harry and Neville joined up and walked at a more sedate pace behind the rest of their house. Both boys noticed Harry was on the receiving end of whispers and stares, so he was glad when Neville spoke up and brought his attention away from them.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Neville gave his strange cactus a stern glare as if it could be chastised for bad behaviour.

"Don't worry about it," Harry dismissed as they waited for a staircase to align for them. "It's like you said, you didn't know it would… um, erupt like that."

Neville blushed.

"Still, I wouldn't want to be covered in Stinksap when someone like Cho Chang comes to say 'Hello'."

Harry had been as surprised as everyone else in the Stinksap covered compartment when Cho Chang had opened the door.

Sure, he had found her attractive last year, and she was still just as beautiful this year, but he had managed to get over the lustful feelings he'd felt towards her during the summer and especially after the discussion he had with Sirius before the start of the year. He'd been very uncomfortable around Hermione and Ginny for a while after that, but had managed to re-acclimate to females by the time he'd gotten on to the Hogwarts Express.

"Well, I think if nothing else, she'll remember that encounter for a while," Harry tried putting a positive spin on the incident, more for Neville's benefit than his own. Both boys shared a smirk as they walked up to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Er…" he said, sending a side glance to Neville who didn't seem to know what the password was either.

"Harry, Neville, there you two are," Ron said as he suddenly came out of the portrait. "I was just about to go searching for you two. Come on, everyone else is already up here. _Mimbulus mimbletoni__a_," Ron said to the portrait, causing Neville to nearly drop his cactus.

"I'll remember it…!" Neville mumbled in an astonished voice as he and Harry followed Ron.

The Gryffindor common room was just as Harry remembered it, warm and welcoming, the scene giving his spirits a much needed lift. He stuck with Neville and Ron as they made their way to the fifth year dormitories, waving to Fred and George as they were hanging something up on the notice board.

Dean and Seamus were already in the room and making short work of decorating their beds and walls with their various team colours and memorabilia.

"Hey," Harry said casually as he got to his trunk and pulled out some sleep wear.

"Hey, Harry," Dean said, seeming to also think it was a good idea to start to get to bed and began changing into his own pair of pyjamas in West Ham colours. "Good holiday?"

Harry thought about his answer for a moment.

"Not bad," Harry settled, earning a chuckle from Neville and Ron. "You?"

"It was okay," the boy replied, "better than Seamus's anyway. He was just telling me."

"Why, what happened Seamus?" Neville said once he'd placed his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ on his bedside table. Seamus didn't answer right away, seeming to think that a perfectly aligned poster of the Kenmare Kestrels was a much more worthwhile endeavour.

"Me mam, she didn't want me to come back," he finally said, still not facing anyone.

"What, like Tracey Davis?"

"Tracey Davis?" Ron repeated, giving Harry a very confused look along with everyone else. "What's that Slytherin got to do with Seamus' mum?"

"Her mum wasn't going to let her come to Hogwarts either," Harry said to the other boys in the room, Seamus now actually turning to face everyone. "As far as I know, it was because of what the Prophet was saying about me."

"Probably 'cause she's a Death Eater, too," Ron mumbled.

Seamus looked conflicted with what he wanted to say, and Harry could guess why. He and Seamus weren't exactly close like he was with Ron or even Neville now. But sharing a dorm with someone for years did increase your understanding of someone, even if you didn't talk much. Now that Seamus' mother thought Harry the villain he'd been painted to be in the Prophet, he wasn't sure how to act around him. Harry decided to try and un-complicate the matter.

"Well, I'm glad you're back."

Seamus looked surprised but recovered pretty quickly.

"Me too."

"I'll try to behave for your mum, yeah?" Harry joked, earning a small chuckle around the room and causing Seamus to flush a bit before smiling. The rest of the evening was pretty relaxed as everyone got to bed. Harry was so exhausted, he didn't have a single nightmare that night, a perfect way to start off the year.

**AN: **Surprise! Hope you all like the early update! And the new points of view! It was a challenge to try and write from a new perspective after all these chapters, so I hope it came out all right. Let me know if you like what I've done or what can be done to improve. I'll try to scatter chapters like this one in every so often, to both break up some of the monotony of writing for me and to keep some characters in your mind for you readers. So, we're at Hogwarts now. Sorry if it seems like I've procrastinated getting here, but I felt I needed to develop things a bit. Plus, the books didn't get to Hogwarts till chapter 10 either, so... Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I look forward to seeing you all in the next one!


	11. The Big Words

**CHAPTER 11**

**~THE BIG WORDS~**

Harry had just finished his conversation with Angelina about showing up for Quidditch try outs at the end of the week when he sat down at the Gryffindor house table for some breakfast. However, just as soon as he took his seat, there was a large whoosh as owls began sweeping into the Great Hall, droplets of water being flung off their damp feathers. He was surprised to see Hedwig among the flock, her ostentatious white colouring making her very easy to spot.

"Hey girl," he said to his owl as she landed, a shrunk package on her leg. He gave her a piece of bacon and an affectionate pat as he removed the parcel, receiving a happy hoot and friendly nip before she flew off regally. Hermione across from him had also received something, but he was too distracted with his package which had grown to its normal size once he'd removed it from his owl.

When Harry opened the package, he was surprised to see an old looking tome and a note with familiar scrawl on it that made him smile just a bit.

_I though you might find this interesting. I wasn't able to get it to you before you left without Molly seeing. Be careful to not leave it lying around, it came from the family library and only those who've been given expressed permission to read it can use it without… harm. Make sure to apply what you learn from it in any future letters._

_Snuffles_

Harry grinned as he excitedly opened up the old book, anxious to see what Sirius had sent him. Inside the book were a multitude of spells and charms to make everything from conversations to letters more secure and private. He even noticed a section about protecting the mind, but before he could pay it much more attention than a cursory glance, he was pulled from the book by Hermione.

"Nothing." Her rolled up Daily Prophet was summarily thrown down the table, leaving a small trail of water in its wake. "Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything."

"Don't sound so disappointed," Harry said, tucking away his book before Hermione could see it and start asking questions. "I could use a break from being in the limelight."

Professor McGonagall walked by the three of them, dropping off their class schedules before moving on further down the table.

"Look at today!" Ron groaned after a moment of reading his schedule. Indeed, today was shaping up to look like a solid punch to the face. An hour and a half of Binns, a double dose of Snape, Trelawney, and all topped off with a double helping of their newest Professor, Dolores Umbridge.

"H-hey Harry. Why's everyone so glum?" Neville said as he joined the group.

"Mr. Longbottom, your class schedule," McGonagall said as she swept back up along the table, continuing her effort to give out schedules to everyone who'd arrived since her last pass.

"Oh. Never mind," Neville said as he began reading, his face quickly matching Ron's.

"What's this?" Fred said, sitting beside Ron who had dropped his head into his hands.

"You all look as if you've just taken your O.W.L.s," George added as he sat beside Neville.

"That isn't for another few months. You've all got plenty of time to look miserable between now and then. No need to try and get it all in now."

"They're just lamenting the fact that today will have them all seeing some of their least favourite Professors," Hermione helpfully provided before bearing down on Fred across from her. "Now, about your adverts for 'virtually painless jobs'-"

"Are you interested in applying?" George interrupted, a grin splitting his face.

"We've just recently perfected our Nosebleed Nougat, works like a charm."

"Be sure to thank Mr. Greengrass for us, Harry, he sure knows his stuff."

Harry suddenly felt his stomach drop a bit. He'd not written to Mr. Greengrass since he'd arrived at the Order's Headquarters, and he still had the blue covered book that he'd borrowed. He'd finished it, of course, but he still found himself reading it over every now and again. He couldn't wait to start using magic more regularly now that he was back at Hogwarts. He quickly resolved to drop Mr. Greengrass a line inquiring about his health and when he'd want the book back.

"I'm not interested in being a test rat for your Skiving Snackboxes," Hermione said snootily. "And where are you even getting the gold to pay these unsuspecting students, anyway? You're not lying about their compensation, are you? Because that would be fraud, and I can't stand idly by while-"

"We've recently come by a generous backer," Fred supplied loftily, pointedly keeping his gaze from Harry who felt his cheeks and neck were beginning to burn.

"Who?" Hermione said, shifting her gaze between the two twins so quickly that one could hear a slight crack of her neck with the motion. Harry purposefully dropped his fork to hide under the table, his guilt showing much too readily for his liking.

"Ask us no questions, and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get to class early, we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears."

"What did that mean?" Hermione asked as Harry came out from under the table.

"You're smart enough to know that, Hermione," Neville said from beside her before he began to blush furiously and look intently at his plate.

"You know, I've been wondering about that too," Ron said, unknowingly saving Neville as he watched his two brothers walk out the hall. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer, and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons…"

"We should probably be getting ready for Binns," Harry quickly said, grabbing an apple before swiftly getting up from his seat. Surprised by his sudden abruptness, his friends were a bit slower to get up and follow him, though they did manage to catch up to him eventually as they all made their way towards their History class.

"D'you reckon it's going to be even more difficult this year? Because of the exams?" Ron asked Hermione nervously as they walked.

"We'll be able to manage it if we stick to the study schedule I've worked out-"

"You've not even had that class schedule for a whole hour yet!" Ron exclaimed.

"Well, I had made a different one for each possible arrangement of classes," Hermione admitted a little embarrassedly. "I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like this year since I had asked a fifth year last year what her courses had been like…"

"She's mental," Ron whispered to Harry, though he hadn't seemed to say if softly enough because he quickly received a smouldering glare.

"Well, you're certainly free to _not_ use it if you'd like, Ronald."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Ron asked after watching Hermione storm off for a moment. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend before answering.

"I haven't really, but Neville has."

"Really? What'cha thinking, mate?"

"O-oh, well, uh, I'm pretty good with plants and all…"

"You going to take over for Sprout?" Ron asked excitedly. "You'd be great as a Professor!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Neville said with a deep blush at the praise, though Harry could see that he stood a little taller after a moment.

History of Magic was a very difficult class to have first thing in the morning. Well, it was a difficult class to have at any time during the day to be honest, but even though Harry had slept well last night, he found drowsiness strike him no more than ten minutes into the droning lecture of Professor Binns. Hermione, who was normally the one who kept him and Ron awake enough to write down at least a word or two every few minutes, had chosen to sit as far as possible from his red headed friend.

However, this year, Harry had a plan for the class he normally scraped by in. He'd spoken with Sirius about the ghostly professor and learned that Binns hadn't once changed his tests or teaching material in the last few decades he'd been teaching. Sirius promptly found all the old notes he and the rest of the Marauders had accumulated throughout the years and gave them to Harry as a sort of late birthday gift which he gratefully accepted. He'd already scanned through a couple pages of the journals he'd been gifted and knew that this year, he'd be able to give Hermione a run for her money in the subject he normally depended on her for.

Once their lesson with Binns was over, they all decided to make their way to Snape's classroom in the dungeons. It wasn't all that great of weather outside and if they arrived to the classroom early, they couldn't get yelled at for being late.

While he was waiting for the class to open up, he began to think about how he felt about having to see Snape after what had happened during the Summer. He still seethed whenever he thought about the coward leaving him alone to deal with the Dementors. Sirius had told him that the potions master had been conveniently absent from all Order meetings since his botched attempt to take Harry back to Privet Drive, and that Dumbledore refused to give insight to the rest of the Order into how he'd handled the man's cowardice.

His godfather had also told Harry to act as if he'd not seen Snape once during the summer holidays.

"_Harry, do you remember when I had said that Dumbledore was a great man?"_

"_Yes. You also said he made mistakes. Frequently. Like a normal person," he reminded his godfather petulantly as Dumbledore managed to once again intrude on his life without having to even be present._

"_Yes well," Sirius began a bit haltingly as he picked up on his godson's sudden mood shift. "He's also been know to make wise decisions too, at times. And, I believe he's made one of those recently."_

"_Do you now?" Harry mumbled moodily, finding an intense interest in the dirt under his fingernail. It was the night before he was to leave for Hogwarts and it had been a few evening's since Sirius had given him 'The Talk.' Since that enlightening discussion, his godfather had been all too happy to point out each time Harry was being particularly 'hormonal'._

"_Oh, stop your brooding for a moment, this is actually quite important for you to understand. Real Order business, if it helps." _

_Harry wasn't all too sure just how much he wanted to be involved in an organization lead by Dumbledore, but if his godfather was saying it was important…_

"_Fine, what's the Headmaster deigned for me to know." Sirius gave him an unamused look and Harry tried to reel in his mood a bit. Unsuccessfully._

"_Snape occupies a… precarious role in the Order," Sirius began, clearly searching for a term that wouldn't flatter the man he loathed equally as much as Harry without understating his very real importance to the Order. "If it were let out that he had been with you the night the Dementors were to find and kill you, he could become… compromised."_

"_What about Mr. Greengrass?" Harry asked after a moment, beginning to worry about what kind of extremes might be taken to ensure the Order's spy remained viable._

"_Dumbledore has been in talks with him and his daughter and he's confident he'll be able to work something out." However, Harry caught a look in his godfathers eye that made him think Dumbledore might not, in fact, be able to work something out. It also suddenly clicked why Snape wasn't at Harry's trial, or any other viable witnesses for that matter. What had Dumbledore planned on doing if Fudge hadn't brought a lie-exposing-thousand-year-old chair to his hearing?_

"_So what? Am I supposed to just pretend I somehow ended up in Little Whinging in a bout of accidental magic?"_

"… _Well, the healing staff at St. Mungo's were told that's where the splinching came from and they bought that story…"_

"_Unbelievable," he muttered to himself._

"_It's quite convenient sometimes how much people are willing to believe, actually," Sirius said in an effort to keep spirits light. _

"… _I'll try," he promised after a few more moments. "But if that greasy bat pushes me too hard in a room full of the wrong sort of people…"_

"_Spoken like a true Potter," Sirius smiled, reaching over to ruffle Harry's already untamed hair._

"Settle down," Snape drawled needlessly as he came into the silent classroom, the door closing ominously behind him, instantly removing any fond memories from Harry's mind.

"Before we begin, I think it appropriate to once again inform you all that this coming June, you will be sitting an examination that will determine your futures, dim as some of them may be. Regardless of your future prospects, I expect all of you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L. for this subject, or suffer my… displeasure."

"After this year, some of you may find you lack the delicate hand and sharp mind needed to continue in my N.E.W.T. course."

Snape was boring his glare into Harry who had fixed his face to show no emotion save contempt.

"But, we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape said softly, but with enough malice to kill a whale, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

Snape finally broke his stare with Harry to gaze around the rest of the room, blinking owlishly finding that the rest of the students had seemed to pick up on the battle of wills that had occurred. Perhaps his promise to his godfather would be broken sooner rather than later…

"Today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level," the Professor began, as if nothing had happened. "The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation," Snape continued, gliding over the stone floors of the dungeon to make his way behind his desk once more. The Potions Master continued to give the class a brief overview of the potion, as well as some of the side effects a faulty-brewed dose may cause. After he'd revealed the instructions on the board and opened the ingredient cabinets along the wall, the class began to start their brewing.

Making sure that Snape's attention was elsewhere, Harry quickly cast a Bubble-Head charm on himself before he gathered up the potion ingredients that were listed. There was no need to try and tempt Snape to take away points for following some basic safety guidelines. As always, the instructions Snape had provided were sparse and bare-bones, and confirming a hypothesis he'd developed over the summer, he noticed that most of the Slytherins in the room had discreetly opened up a small pocket book that no doubt had some supplementary text on how to make the Draught of Peace.

Once Harry had gathered all his required ingredients, he carefully read each sparse line on the blackboard. He then ensured that Snape's attention was still on Neville before quickly pulling out his own pocket guide he'd picked up while shopping at Diagon Alley.

It had been a struggle trying to find the right copy to pick up, but after a few questions and Sickles to the owner of Flourish & Blotts, he learned what pocket guide Slytherin fifth years had been purchasing as of late. He had thought of telling Hermione and Ron, but Hermione would've gone off on him for bribery and Ron… well, it had been a book store and his mother had promised to buy him a new broom for making prefect.

The book had quite a bit to say about the Draught of Peace, but mostly the instructions were the same as what Snape had written on the board. Harry decided he'd read over the entry later.

He quickly returned his focus on the task at hand before Hermione or Snape caught him looking at the book and began to prep his cauldron and tools, only starting once he ensured everything was clean and ready. Ron gave him a confused look once he started a good two minutes behind everyone else.

"Falling behind already, Potter?" Snape had managed to appear without a sound just beside Harry, just as he was setting the intensity of the fire below his cauldron, a step that required a great deal of precision. He doubted the potions master's sudden appearance at this crucial step was the result of chance.

"Just reading the instructions thoroughly, Professor."

"Yes, they do have some larger words in them this year, don't they," Snape sneered. A chortle of laughter came from Slytherin brewing stations, but Harry remained razor focused on his potion and eventually Snape decided it would be more worthwhile to torment Neville.

This particular potion was very finicky, and the steps Harry was currently performing could not be interrupted without the entire potion becoming an inert mass of goo. After his last counter-stir, Harry allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction as a silvery vapour began to waft up from his cauldron, matching nearly perfectly with Hermione's end result.

Snape, for the first time Harry could remember, remained silent as he came and looked down at his potion.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

"What for!?" Ron shouted in indignation for Harry, ignoring the green sparks issuing from his own cauldron.

"Five more for you cheek, Weasley. This is a potions class, Potter, not charms. Remove your entirely unnecessary Bubble-Head charm at once."

"Just as soon as something is done about Goyle's noxious gas. Sir."

It was just at that particularly lucky moment that Gregory Goyle couldn't take breathing in another breath of his potions vapours and fell over with a very audible thud. There was complete silence in the room save for a few potions that were bubbling quite violently as Harry and Snape once again had their silent battle of wills, neither willing to break their stare despite the unconscious boy on the ground. Finally, Snape once again relented and broke away, looking over at Goyle's potion before swiping his wand and vanishing its content. He performed a similar movement directed at Neville's cauldron as well, which had looked to be on the verge of exploding.

"Mr. Crabbe, please escort Mr. Goyle to Madam Pomfrey. Everyone else, turn in a flagon of your work clearly marked with your name. I expect twelve inches of parchment by Thursday on the dangers of performing charms while brewing."

Harry felt some withering stares come at him from both houses in the room, but he weathered them without letting them affect him. He dutifully pulled out an empty flagon and filled it with his potion, taking great pains to neatly write 'Harry J. Potter' on it with his chinagraph pencil after he'd corked it. Once he'd placed his sample on Snape's desk, he quickly and silently put away his equipment, cleaning it as he went. Ron and Hermione were exchanging looks, but didn't dare speak to Harry until the bell to leave had rung and they were at least a few hallways away from Snape's dungeon classroom.

"When did you cast your Bubble-Head charm, Harry?" Hermione asked as they came into the Great Hall for lunch.

"At the very beginning of class, before anyone had started brewing," Harry supplied succinctly, waving Neville over to sit with them. "Sorry about Snape, Neville. He was being particularly git-ish today."

"Oh, well, normally I'd say you're right," Neville nodded. "But I think I'm glad Snape managed to take care of that potion for me. A moment longer and I might've had to go to the infirmary with Goyle."

"I didn't even hear you do it." Hermione didn't seem to be willing to let the matter go.

"I did it quietly?" Harry tried, quickly mirroring Ron and digging into his food hoping it would give him an excuse for not having to reply to Hermione's questions.

"So quietly, perhaps, that it might escape the notice of Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione said pointedly as Harry slowly stopped eating. Even Ron seemed to slow down slightly at the mention of his mother.

"What's my mum got to do with Harry being able to… cast… quiet- CHEATER!"

"How'd you do it?" Hermione demanded, leaning into Harry while Ron finished swallowing whatever food he still had in his mouth. Neville looked completely lost.

"Uh, what's going on now?"

"Harry used magic over the summer without getting in trouble for it!" Ron exclaimed, earning a few head turns from people nearby.

"Of course I got in trouble for it, Ron," Harry said a little franticly, trying to draw his friends attention to the people who were now very interested in their conversation. Who wouldn't want to hear about Harry's method of breaking the law? "Remember? I got a trial and everything?"

"Not that time you twi- OW!" Ron said glaring at Hermione who'd apparently just stomped on Ron's foot.

"Language Ronald," Hermione covered while also trying to make Ron realize he was being much to brazen. Finally, the red head seemed to notice all the faces looking at them and reddened.

"… Everything okay, Harry?" Neville asked, looking between the three people he'd only recently begun to hang out more frequently with, his face showing that perhaps it hadn't been his smartest decision.

"Yup, though we should probably be getting to Divination. Sorry Hermione, got to go. Talk later, bye."

Harry quickly gathered all his things and left the table, prompting Ron to scarf down a few more bites of shepherd's pie and Hermione to give a disgruntled sigh. Neville was a bit slower than Ron getting up from the table, but joined walking with him and Harry up to Divination.

"Harry, mate, you're going to tell me, right?" Ron said as they were climbing the ladder into Trelawney's classroom. Neville decided to join up with Dean while Ron and Harry moved a bit further back.

"I'm sorry about calling you a cheater and all," Ron apologized quickly, pulling out a chair for Harry before rushing around the table to take a seat across from him. "But you get it, right? I mean, the twins, they were flaunting it all about all summer and Hermione and I just had to watch. And now you end up knowing how to all this on the sly, under mum's own nose, no less, and well, you can imagine-"

"Good day," Professor Trelawney broke in, her airy voice cutting off Ron's rambling. Harry smirked just a bit. He was of course going to share his knowledge with his friends, but watching them squirm just a bit was good, clean fun, wasn't it?

Trelawney started the class off by lauding her supernatural powers of divination before directing them to begin reading the books she'd placed on their tables before hand.

Reading the book proved to be more difficult than normal for Harry, with Ron constantly trying to break his concentration to try and learn more about his technique for getting away with summer magic. By the time Harry had finally managed to get past the introduction of the book, the Professor was informing them of what their homework for the next month would be.

"I would like for all of you to begin keeping a dream diary. For the next lunar cycle, you are to record your nocturnal visions in as much detail as possible. After a month's time has passed, I will collect your dream diaries and enchant them as to make the author anonymous. Your dreams will then be passed to my other fifth year divination class, while theirs will be passed on to you. You shall then interpret the dreams your fellow seers have recorded for me to ultimately overview."

Harry wasn't sure if putting down his nightmares into a journal for another person to read was such a good idea, but ended up deciding that in the off chance he had a 'normal' dream, he'd put it into the diary. Otherwise, he would just make up some rubbish.

"Hey, Ron, what are some normal things a bloke dreams about?" Harry asked as everyone began to pack up to leave.

"Girls." Ron said quickly before turning a bit red. "And, uh, other things too. Why? You're a bloke, you ought 'ta know."

"My dreams aren't exactly the standard fare," Harry countered as Neville joined up with them. "What about you Nev, what do you dream about?"

"Girls," Neville quickly said before he, like Ron, turned red. "And, uh, other thighs. THINGS! I meant things!"

"What do you mean, 'you meant things'?" Hermione asked as she joined them on their way to Defence. Both Neville and Ron turned an amazing shade of red before Harry decided to answer her.

"Nothing. How was Runes?"

"Exciting!" Hermione bubbled as she began to try and get Harry excited about the prospects of working with hieroglyphics. However, Hermione, like everyone else, fell silent once they walked into the classroom Professor Umbridge had decided to use.

It was standard procedure to be quiet when dealing with unknown professors, and with their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor changing every year, the first day of the class was always a silent and subdued one.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge finally said once the last person had taken their seat. Only a couple of students decided to mumble a 'good afternoon' back.

"Tut, tut," the woman shook her head disapprovingly, an overly forced disappointed frown crossing her toadish features. "That simply won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon class!"

Harry couldn't believe what was happening. He'd not been talked to like this, like he was some simpleton child, since primary school. And by the disgusted faces of some of his classmates, even some of the usually more reserved Slytherin's, he wasn't the only one to think so. Regardless, he, like everyone else, didn't feel like being the first one to test the waters of Umbridge's disciplinary stance, and responded with the rest of the room.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge."

"There, now," Professor Umbridge said so sweetly, Harry thought he might get a cavity from merely listening to her, "that wasn't too difficult, was it?" Everyone in the room seemed to be thinking otherwise. "Wands away and quills out, please."

He would've normally grinned at the way that Ron let his head thunk down on the wooden desk they sat at in desperation, but as he was feeling quite the same way, no smile appeared as he pulled out his quill and parchment while subtly tucking his wand up his sleeve.

Of course this year would be yet another disappointment in his Defence education. Why would the ministry send someone competent? That could be misinterpreted them as realizing a legitimate threat, such as say, a reincarnated Lord Voldemort, existed and needed defending against. But who else could he go to for any kind of real learning, let alone training?

He wouldn't fool himself; Harry knew he needed to learn more than what Umbridge seemed willing to teach with as strong of a wizard as Tom Riddle and all his followers were.

And of course, he needed to pass those O.W.L.s.

But he was mostly concerned about Voldemort.

Catching a look from Hermione, Harry realized that she and Ron and just about everyone else in the school were probably in the same boat as him. Sure, Voldemort hadn't gone after their families or tried killing them as a child, but they did go to the same school as Harry Potter, and Voldemort had killed for lesser reasons before.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry broke himself from his musing to find that Umbridge was now directly in front of him, her saccharine smile so disturbingly fake that he nearly twitched out of his seat. The Defence Professor smelled strongly of an old woman's perfume and talcum powder, causing him to involuntary wrinkle his nose before schooling his features.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Why are you not copying down the course aims? Do you think yourself above doing the work everyone else must do?"

"I…" Harry had to physically collect himself and breath as deeply as he dared with the nasty smell of Umbridge beside him before he could speak again. "I apologize, Professor," he muttered. "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it does not," Umbridge said haughtily and with a vindictive smirk that was hidden behind her continued plastered pleasantry. She slowly waddled back to the front of the room while Harry furiously scribbled the drivel that had been written on the board up front.

"Has everybody picked up a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

The room was filled with a dull murmur of affirmative answers as some people began to retrieve the useless book from their bags. However, Harry already knew what Umbridge would have to say about the less than enthusiastic response from her class.

"I think we'll try that again," the stout woman said. If Harry hadn't already had teachers like this back in muggle primary school, he might've sported the same wide eyes of exasperation Ron had, but managed to school his features as Professor Umbridge began to lay down the 'Basic Laws' of her classroom.

"When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," the class replied, already falling into the brainlessness the course seemed to promise and demand.

"Good," the foul woman smiled in what Harry assumed was supposed to be a pleased smile, but all the same sent shivers up his spine. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Ron once again allowed his head to smack, lightly this time, on his book before he reluctantly raised it and began to flip to page five and begin reading. Harry, like Hermione, had already paged though the book and knew there wasn't a shred of useful information in the 487 pages of the book. In fact, there were quite a few things in the book that were just plain wrong and detrimental to learning proper uses of spells that they'd been taught before.

He also knew, both from the small amount of time he'd spent in the woman's presence at his trial and from his experiences back in primary school, that any signs of rebellion would be quashed. He already had this woman's ire from rebelling against the Minister and his head-in-the-sand stance he was taking with Voldemort, he didn't want to give her another by not opening up his book to page five.

Harry had been staring intently at page five for over an hour, slowly feeling his life draining away as he endured the double period of Defence. His boredom, however, was inturupted by none other than Professor Umbridge herself.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

Confused about what anyone could be confused about in the overly simplistic introductory chapter, Harry looked wildly about the room and was surprised to find Hermione with her hand up and her book unopened. Had she been that way for the entire hour?!

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione answered, a bit of relief seeming to seep into her reply. Everyone in the classroom had stopped their attempts at looking like they were reading to watch the much more interesting interaction between one of the smartest people in their year and the still relatively unknown Defence Professor. Harry wasn't sure what Hermione was trying to accomplish. She'd grown up muggle just as he had, and while they hadn't gone to the same school together, she must've had women like Umbridge before and knew better than to try and argue.

Right?

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione said in a tone that had Harry scared. She was going to try and argue. He attempted to catch Hermione's eyes with slight jerks of his head and hands, but couldn't move too much else Umbridge might notice his sudden case of twitching. However, Hermione's focus was like that of a laser, and neither woman was paying any mind to Harry at the moment.

"And your name is…?"

Harry knew the exchange was already doomed and decided his best course of action at this point was to keep his head down and let the catastrophe pass over him. He let skills he'd developed long ago back in his muggle schooling days take over as he shrunk down into his chair and pulled Slinkhard's book up to cover his face, least he earn the eye of Umbridge.

The classroom around him began to pop off with different students voicing their ultimately pointless complaints about how Umbridge planned on doing things. He vaguely recognized that each voice of protest was from a fellow Gryffindor, the Slytherin portion of the class remaining silent and observing.

Eventually, there was a protracted silence in the room. Experimentally, Harry peeked over the cover of his book only to realize that the entire class was looking at him. To his side was Umbridge, her gaze directed down at him with a smile that showcased her pointy teeth, making her look like some kind of demon wearing a mask that was very out of taste.

"Mr. Potter, what were you doing behind Mr. Slinkhard's book?"

"Reading, Professor."

"… You're still on page five, Mr. Potter."

"They're big words, ma'am."

A chorus of snickers sprung out around the classroom, a surprisingly hearty amount actually coming from some of the Slytherins seated near the back. Umbridge, however didn't look amused.

"Mr. Potter, I'm not sure how your previous Defence Professors did things, but I will not tolerate being lied to. Now-"

However, before the woman could continue, Harry received support in the strangest form and from someone he'd never expected it to come from.

"It's true, Professor," a slightly pudgy Slytherin female spoke up from a corner. Harry briefly noted she was the only Slytherin to be sitting alone before she continued. "He has problems with the larger ones. He was having the same issue in Potions earlier today."

There were no chuckles from anyone this time around. Before anyone could say anything else, the bell for dinner rung.

"I would like for you all to have 18 inches of parchment on why the actual use of any spells in this classroom will be ultimately unnecessary by next week. Dismissed."

Nobody wasted any time gathering their things.

**AN:** So, I'm back from my own little summer break. Sorry about the delay for any of you who were bothered by it. Hopefully another long pause like that isn't due for a long time. I've noticed a trend in some of the comments and I'd just like to take a quick moment to address some people's opinions of how I am handling this story. I am changing things slowly and progressively, and those changes will eventually cascade into an ending quite different from canon. I will be using canon events at times to show that, to some extent, part's of Harry's life are ruled by fate. Characters who were marginalized in the books and movies aren't suddenly going to have the spotlight on them, they will instead slowly inch onto the stage of Harry's life. Long standing relations with other character's aren't going to suddenly end or grow. Some people may find they don't have the patience for such subtlety. There are plenty of stories where there is no trace of canon, where 'new' characters are the protagonists, and where canon relationships are just hand waved away or into existence because 'that's how it really was'. Right now, this story is hardly even to it's half-way point, so I'd encourage anyone reading right now to continue to read with the expectation that things will most certainly change from what appears to be a story about "Harry Potter but he's a bit less self-absorbed and a bit more accepting, also all the canon relationships get bumped up for some reason". Harry's perspective isn't omniscient, he's an unreliable narrator for you literature majors out there. As much as a cop out as 'wait and see' may seem to be, it holds true in this case.

As for all of you who do understand just what fanfiction is, thank you for all the feedback and critiques. Both me and my beta beat ourselves up quite a bit over the 'Perfect' 'prefect' debacle. That should be fixed, by the way. If anyone goes through and notices an instance where that's not the case, send me a PM and I'll send you an amazing text cat. You'll love it. As always, I'm looking forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	12. First In Class

**CHAPTER 12**

**~FIRST IN CLASS~**

The Great Hall was still the same dreary, clouded-over grey it had been since the morning and afternoon, the weather outside still as foul as ever. As he took his seat, Harry discreetly glanced over at the Slytherin table, trying to spot the female that had spoken on his behalf in Defence.

"Her name's Millicent Bulstrode," Hermione provided, proving to Harry that he needed to work on his sneakiness a bit.

"Why'd she stick up for you in Defence?" Ron asked, turning around to stare at Millicent and blowing any sense on secrecy that had been retained until that point. Luckily Hermione was able to stomp on Ron's poor foot before he made too much of a scene.

"I dunno," Harry answered as he now studiously avoided looking at the Slytherin table.

"A-actually, I don't think she was trying to stick up for him," Neville said as he sat down beside Ron. The boy was still a bit nervous when it came to trying to join in on conversations, but Harry noticed he was slowly getting better at it and doing it more often.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked Neville as the boy served himself some food and began eating.

"Well…" Neville seemed to try and think of a way to explain himself while Ron finally finished nursing his foot and decided to comfort himself with some apple pie. "I think she was trying to, I dunno exactly, but maybe… join in on the joke?"

Ron screwed up his face in a doubtful scowl.

"Well, she did a rotten job of it."

Hermione, however, suddenly got a thoughtful look on her face. Catching the look Harry was giving her, she decided to share her thoughts.

"Actually, I think it makes sense," she began, her eyes flitting over to the Slytherin crowd. "She's not very popular with the other girls in her house, for one…"

"How do you know?" Ron asked confusedly. "You don't… hang out with her… do you?" he finished, as if the very thought was dirty and untouchable.

"And what if I did Ron? Would that be so terrible?" Hermione asked irritably, causing Harry to roll his eyes a bit. Leave it to Ron and Hermione to find something to argue about.

"Guys-"

"Well, she's a Slytherin, like Malfoy. You know what kind of wizard he's like."

"I think we really ought to-"

"If you must know, Ronald, us girls tend to pick up these kinds of things, unlike certain-"

"Stop!" Harry shouted, slamming his hand on the table and causing some silverware to clatter to the floor. Hermione blinked and seemed to notice just where she was and what she was doing, her face turning a brilliant shade of red as half the Great Hall looked at her, Ron, and Harry for creating such a ruckus. Ron, for his part, also looked a bit embarrassed, but still had a contempt glare directed towards Hermione.

"M-maybe we should have this conversation in the common room?" Neville suggested shakily, his face red just from being near the commotion. Hermione wasted no time leaving the table, storming off quickly enough to disturb some people's hair as she walked by. However, when Harry, Ron, and Neville arrived at the common room, she was nowhere in sight.

"If you're looking for your bushy haired friend, she's gone to bed," Fred provided as he spotted the three of them scanning the common room.

"What? Why'd she go and do that?" Ron asked.

"She didn't like us trying to improve our enterprise with paid and willing product testers," George provided, looking particularly put out.

"Great," Ron groused, kicking the foot of a large poofy chair a second year had been sitting in, causing said occupant to glare angrily at Ron before noticing his prefect badge.

"Well, think you can try and explain it to us after all, Neville?" Harry asked as Neville mouthed a silent 'sorry' to the second year.

"Uh, well, sure. Though, I'm not too sure how well my explanation would stand against Hermione's."

"Well, you're all we've got," Ron said moodily as he took a seat at a table.

"And you were the first to notice something," Harry quickly put in, trying to bolster his friends self-confidence a little.

"Right, well, it's like Hermione said," Neville began as he and Harry joined Ron at a table. "Millicent isn't exactly popular with the girls in Slytherin. Or Slytherin at all, really. You know… now that I'm thinking about it, she's not very popular with anybody."

"Who cares?" Ron asked. "What's it matter if she's got no friends?"

Harry scowled at Ron's abrasive comments, but dismissed it as him being irritable at Hermione. Neville decided to try and get to his point before Ron started directing his attitude towards him.

"R-right, well, when she saw everyone laughing at the joke of Harry having a hard time with big words, she wanted to try and join in on the joke. Except… well, she's not exactly used to doing that."

"I'll say," Ron said as he leaned back in his chair. "She could take the fun out of Gigglewater."

The three boys were quiet for a while as they thought over things.

"Hey, Nev, you said that pure-bloods have big parties for their birthdays, right?"

"Yeah…" Neville said looking over at Harry. "But if you're going to ask about Millicent's, I don't know. I've never been invited to one of hers."

"Not like you'd go anyway," Ron said flippantly. Neville wisely remained silent. "Well, I've just about had enough of today. I think I'll turn in for the night."

"G'night," Harry said as Ron got out of his chair and headed up the stares to the dorms.

"It's only seven," Neville said, pulling out a pocket watch he had.

"It's the first day," Harry tried defending, though he too still felt like he wasn't ready for bed yet.

"Yeah, and we already got over three feet of homework assigned," Neville groused.

His heart fell at being reminded of the already massive amount of homework.

"No time like the present, I suppose," Harry mumbled as he began to pull out some parchment and quills from his bag, Neville following his lead.

The two of them were able to get a decent start on Binns' essay after Harry had made Neville swear to not share the fact he had notes from previous years. By the time they turned in for the night, they only had a few more inches each and were confident they'd be able to manage that tomorrow with all the great material the Marauders had left them. Neville still didn't know the full identity of all the members of the mysterious group, but certainly wasn't looking the gift horse in the mouth, either.

Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice seemed even squeakier than normal to Harry's still tired ears as their double Charms lesson began. Luckily, the first lesson of the year was a dedicated review of the Summoning Charm. Having had to practice his last year under the threat of being killed by a dragon, Harry was already proficient with the charm. His few days of magic use in Diagon Alley weren't hurting him any either. By the end of the class, he had managed to earn Gryffindor ten points by silently summoning the feathers they'd been practising with.

However, while the rest of the class had focused on him, Harry had paid special attention to Neville. Today was the first time he would get to see him in action with his new wand after the flop their Defence class proved to be. On his very first try, Neville had gotten his feather to drift halfway towards him before his spell failed. But the failure of the spell was more due to his shock at the spell actually working than anything wrong with his casting. Harry had watched with a smile as Neville had a grand time using his magic to summon a feather from various places in the room.

Professor Flitwick had, of course, given them a homework assignment, not to be outdone by the other Professors. They were to find a way to make a counter-charm to the summoning charm and be able to demonstrate it by the next class.

Transfiguration also decided to remind everyone that they were in their O.W.L. year.

"Hermione, how'd you get it to work?" Ron whined as he waved his wand with a frenetic vigour at his snail. However, the snail remained just as present as it had been since the start of the lesson, it's slimy countenance mocking Ron's futile attempts.

"Mr. Weasley, stop that waving before you poke Mr. Potter's eye out!" Professor McGonagall shouted from her position at the front of the room.

Ron reddened as he ceased his waving. Hermione just shook her head as she continued to work on a homework assignment from another class, Professor McGonagall having given her the rest of the period to use as she saw fit after successfully making her snail vanish after a mere ten minutes.

"You'll have to work on your wand work a bit more if you want to have a chance of making that snail disappear, Ron."

No one besides Hermione had managed to get their snail to disappear during the double period of Transfiguration, much to Professor McGonagall's disappointment. She decided to assign them the homework of practising the spell and to have it down by the time they came to class tomorrow afternoon. Harry was just thankful she hadn't assigned another foot of homework for him to do.

After lunch, they started heading out towards Hagrid's cabin. The weather had improved marginally since yesterday, occasional droplets of rain still managing to make it down to them as they met Professor Grubbly-Plank who had set up a table in front of Hagrid's home. It seemed to be covered in twigs, but before he could focus on the pieces of wood, he heard a shriek of laughter behind him. He turned along with the majority of the Gryffindors who'd already arrived and watched as Malfoy strode up to the gathering of fellow Hogwarts students, his chest out and overtly displaying the overly polished prefect badge on his robes.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's behaviour, and turned back towards the much more interesting twigs on the table, just in time to catch one of them twitching. Before he could ask anyone else if they had caught the movement, Professor Grubbly-Plank spoke up.

"Everyone here?" she loudly asked the gathered students. Nearly everyone gave her a nod in the affirmative before she continued. "Good, let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

Hermione's hand was already in the air before the Professor had even managed to finish her question. Just as quickly, Malfoy performed a buck-toothed imitation while he jumped up and down eagerly with his hand raised in a crude imitation. Rather than looking offended, Hermione just looked disgusted by Malfoy's immaturity. In fact, Ron looked more incensed than Hermione did. However before anyone could say anything about Malfoy's terrible acting, the twigs on the table moved again, in mass this time, and all transformed into strange pixie-like creatures that reminded Harry of a stick-bug.

Sounds of fascination came from students who weren't caught up in Draco's taunting and Harry was reminded of Luna's assessment of Hagrid's performance as a professor. He'd not been paying much attention at the time, but Ron had told him at breakfast this morning that some students, namely Luna, were happy about Hagrid being replaced. Harry wasn't sure what to feel about it. Hagrid certainly was passionate about his subject, that couldn't be denied, and he'd always be a good friend of Harry's, but…

"Kindly keep your voices down," Professor Grubbly-Plank commanded sharply, instantly hushing the class in a way Hagrid hadn't ever been able to master. She threw something that looked like brown rice at the animated sticks that they quickly began to eat. "So, Miss Granger? Care to share what these creatures are?"

"Bowtruckles," Hermione said, now thoroughly avoiding looking anywhere in Malfoy's direction. "They usually live in wand-trees and are sometimes called tree-guardians."

"Five points for Gryffindor," the Professor announced with a slight smile. The rest of the lesson was actually pretty informative for what Harry had been expecting, further proving that perhaps students who'd been happy about Hagrid's absence hadn't all been gleeful for nefarious reasons. He was still concerned about how Hagrid was doing, though. Half-giant or not, dealing with a full blown giant was dangerous.

"That's really good, Ron," Hermione said, pulling Harry from his thoughts. Ron was currently blushing from the praise he'd received and their Bowtruckle was curiously trying to look at Ron's sketch of it too. Harry caught a glimpse of the drawing and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Wow, Ron, I didn't know you were that good…" he said as he took in Ron's art. The drawing had amazing detail, the Bowtruckle seemingly perfectly recreated on the parchment.

"Y-you're just saying that," the red-head stuttered under all the sudden attention as other students also began to curiously look over at their group. Even Malfoy was suspiciously silent.

"No, look at mine," Harry countered, showing his crude drawing. The Bowtruckle's features on Harry's drawing were severely out of proportion and only by the labels off to the side was anyone able to tell what part was what. Hermione suddenly seemed to be wary of showing her drawing and held it close to her chest.

"You don't want to see mine," she assured the two boy's as they looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron said with a small grin, most of his blush gone now. "We show you ours, you show us yours. That's how this works." Both Ron and Hermione grew a bit red at Ron's statement, and a few giggles broke out from those close enough to hear, but Hermione decided to relent after a moment.

"Fine, but you can't laugh." Slowly, she discretely showed Ron and Harry her drawing. Or rather, her collection of terribly scribbled lines in a vague shape of what a Bowtruckle might look like in abstract art.

"Um…" Harry began, looking up at Hermione's reddening face.

"I've never been very good at drawing," she admitted as she quickly pulled the sketch back in towards her chest.

"… I'll help you." Ron offered after a second. The Bowtruckle of their group looked between the two in the silence that followed before picking up one of the wood lice Harry had in his open hand.

"… Okay," Hermione accepted, her cheeks still dusted with a blush that didn't seem to be ready to leave even after the end of their lesson.

As they climbed the hill back up towards the greenhouses, Hermione and Ron walked a bit further behind the rest of the class, Ron already trying to launch into a lesson on how to make more 'organic' lines. Harry wasn't sure what to think of his two friends. Just last night they had been at each other throats and now… well, that couple he encountered in the Leaky Cauldron over the summer came to mind.

He'd heard from Sirius that opposites attracted, as was the case with his parents, but his parents had ended up changing each other for the better. Ron and Hermione were certainly opposites, and their moments of attraction were becoming more and more apparent, to him at least. But he wasn't sure how successful either of them would be in changing each other for the better. Both his friends had very strong wills and personalities, like he had himself. It was part of the reason they'd all become friends. However, before he could think any further about a possible more-than-platonic-relationship between two of his best friends, the nearest greenhouse opened, issuing forth a mass of fourth years among whom was Ginny.

"Hi," she greeted friendly, pulling Harry from his serious thoughts. Harry greeted her with his own bright smile and wave, causing some girls around her to begin giggling. Perhaps not everyone in fourth year was as opinionated as the rest of the school, Harry thought hopefully as the students continued to pour out of the greenhouse. As if sent to confirm his suspicions, a final girl emerged from the greenhouse, her long blond hair done up in a knot that had the occasional twig and leaf lodged in it and a smudge of dirt on her pale white nose, making it look like she'd just had a particularly harrowing lesson of Herbology. When she spotted Harry, her eyes widened excitedly and she began to make towards him like the bewitched Bludger back in his second year.

"Luna, right?" Harry said to the girl once she got close enough he wouldn't have to yell for her to hear him. She smiled even wider and gave a very enthusiastic nod, causing her peculiar radish looking earrings to wildly fail about on her ears.

"I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

The rest of the fifth year Gryffindors had joined up with people walking up the hill from Care of Magical Creatures, and the fifth year Hufflepuffs had also shown up and were all present for Luna's loud declaration. Many were looking over at and whispering about him and the fourth year girl, some beginning to point at Luna's eccentric earrings, which seemed a little hypocritical as no one seemed willing to call Dumbledore out on some of his more flamboyant clothing choices.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said sincerely, trying to pull her away from the ever increasing giggles that were coming from the crowd watching them. "It means a lot to hear there's still some sane people around."

It seemed he'd said the right thing to a girl for once, because Luna couldn't stop the blinding smile she gave Harry as the whispers around them became quite.

"Well, I'll see you later then," Luna said after a moment and proceeded to skip away without a care in the world.

"I want you to know, Potter," Ernie Macmillan suddenly said, breaking the silence that had descended on the group, "That it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

Harry was a little irritated that Ernie had called his first vocal supporter that was outside his immediate friend group a weirdo, but also wasn't about to risk any further support from the student body he could get. The Hufflepuff was most likely making the public declaration for his own pompous reasons, but so long as they helped Harry's own…

"Thank you, Ernie," Harry managed to say without any of his underlying opinions making it through his voice. With a nod, he began to make his way towards where Professor Sprout was waiting for them. He caught Hermione giving him a look telling him she wanted to say something to him, but she was stopped by Ron trying to impart another titbit of drawing knowledge before their Herbology lesson began.

By the end of class, another foot of homework had been assigned and Harry wondered if the Professors had a specific reason for trying to demoralize them straight away. Most of their class was hungry enough to head straight to dinner without trying to wash off the strong stench of dragon dung that clung to them, causing some people near the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables to give them reproachful stares that they ignored. They were much too hungry and tried to worry about social protocol at the moment.

"How are we supposed to do all this bloody homework?" Ron complained as he flopped down next to Harry, instantly going for a large serving of stew.

"Language, Ron," Hermione reminded primly as she sat down, though Harry noticed a distinct tiredness in her movements as well. "You're a prefect and should be setting an example."

"He's not wrong about all this homework though," Neville said as he took a seat with them, choosing to start with a hefty dollop of mashed potatoes.

"Would you mind helping us with that vanishing spell, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at his friend. Hermione nodded as she served herself some food as well.

"I wouldn't mind at all… under one condition." Ron, Neville, and Harry all stopped in mid-celebration at hearing Hermione's help came with a condition.

"What is it?" Ron quickly asked. "Whatever it is, we promise we'll do it."

"It's actually up to Harry," Hermione said as she pointedly looked at him, making him fidget a bit. "You have to teach us how you did magic over the summer." Ron suddenly seemed to remember that he also desperately wanted to know Harry's secret for performing under-age magic. Even Neville seemed to lean in a bit.

"Fine," Harry told his friends, "but not here."

Hermione smiled broadly as she returned to her meal and Ron grinned wildly as he stole a glance over towards his brothers who seemed to be making some kind of sales pitch to a group of second years near the entrance of the Great Hall.

After dinner, the group headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to work on their vanishing spell.

"What are we supposed to practice vanishing?" Ron asked logically once they got into the warm room.

"Well, I figured we could just practice your form first," Hermione said unconcerned. "I know yours could use quite a bit of work."

For the next few minutes Hermione corrected each of their forms and pronunciations of the word _Evanesco_. After an entire summer unlearning everything Hermione was emphasising as important, Harry realized he may have shot himself in the foot when it came to learning new spells. After about a half hour, Harry suddenly felt something different when he said the incantation, a tingle in his fingers.

"I think I've got it!" he said excitedly to Hermione who's hair had progressively gotten more frizzy with distress as none of the boys had been showing improvement until Harry's sudden declaration.

"Really?!" She asked hopefully, her eyes brightening. "Hold on, I'll have one of the upper years conjure us a snail."

She asked around the common room until the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Angelina Johnson, conjured them a snail and came over to watch the fate of her conjuration. Harry refocused on the feeling he'd felt, a technique the book he'd loaned from Mr. Greengrass had made sure to emphasis when learning new spells, and then performed the wand movement and incantation Hermione had spent the last half hour drilling into him.

"Perfect!" Hermione said when the snail vanished. Angelina had a satisfied smirk as well.

"Good to see our star Seeker isn't a slouch at his spell work either."

Hermione began asking Angelina about the theory behind conjuration while Harry decided to try and help out his two dorm mates.

"Good job, Harry," Neville said with a grin.

"Yeah, good job mate," Ron said, a little less enthusiastically.

"Try to focus on what the magic ought to feel like," Harry told them, while Hermione was still distracted. "It kind of feels like the tingly feeling you get when you lay on your arm too long."

Ron scrunched his eyes in confusion, but, like Neville, tried imagining the sensation while also performing the movement and incantation.

"Whoa!" Neville said, a grin crossing his face. "I think I've got it!" Ron also looked a bit excited.

"Me too!" he said, looking at his wand hand like it was something that wasn't his.

"Angelina, two more snails please!" Harry said, happy his two friends had caught on so quickly after his little tip.

"Sure thing, Harry," She said, glad to be called away from Hermione's theoretical discussion on magic she wasn't supposed to be learning for another year. As soon as the two snails were created, Ron and Neville made them disappear with their first attempt.

"But… Neville… your wand movement was all over the place… And Ron… its _ev-an-ES-ko_, not _E-van-E-sco_…"

"But we got them to disappear, right?" Ron said. "That's what matters."

"What did you tell them?" Hermione said as she turned to glare at Harry.

"Nothing!" Harry quickly denied before Hermione only intensified her accusatory stare. "I only told them what the magic should feel like!" Harry admitted. "Nothing else!"

Hermione deflated massively and dropped her glare.

"What's wrong?" Angelina asked the girl, putting a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"I just thought I was doing really good at teaching them all… And then Harry goes and tells them one thing and all the sudden they can do it while disregarding everything I told them."

"W-well, I'm not sure about Ron, but I didn't disregard it," Neville quickly told Hermione. "I just… it wasn't as important? Maybe?"

"Yeah," Ron quickly agreed. "I wasn't forgetting what you'd said about what to do," he told her, "I just wasn't as focused on it as what you might've been." Hermione was silent for a few more moments looking between the three boys in front of her.

"Well, I guess the important thing is you've all got it down now," she finally said with a weak smile. "And, now Harry gets to spill the beans on how he broke one of the strictest laws over the summer while Mrs. Weasley watched."

"What's this now?" Angelina asked, wide eyed and staring at Harry. "You're breaking the law, Potter?"

"More like playing to it's weaknesses," Harry admitted, making sure that the rest of the room was still distracted with whatever they were doing.

He spent the next hour telling the four gathered around him about how the Ministry tracked magic and the loophole that existed in places where they expected magic to be performed. Hermione was rightly upset at learning she'd still be unable to practice magic at her home. Ron and Neville, however, seemed to already be thinking about what they'd do with this new information. Angelina just looked upset she'd not heard of this loophole a year or two ago. She was already of age and could do magic regardless.

"It wouldn't bother me nearly as much as it does if I didn't know that families like the Malfoys probably abuse the law like it's tissue paper."

Hermione had been complaining to Harry about the injustice of the law for the last quarter of an hour now. Ron had sneaked off somewhere for a 'walk', Neville had decided to finish off his History of Magic essay, and Angelina was back with her friend, Katie Bell, leaving Harry to listen to Hermione's lamentations while he wrote letters to Mr. Greengrass and Sirius.

"Who are you writing, anyway?" Hermione finally asked. He'd been almost silent through her whole rant, though, he had nodded and hummed in agreement like Sirius had told him to do when women talked about a topic he didn't particularly find enthralling.

"Mr. Greengrass, the man I worked for over the summer," Harry told Hermione.

"Mr. Greengrass? Like Daphne Greengrass?"

"I'm pretty sure Daphne isn't a Mr., Hermione."

"You know what I meant, prat." Harry got a good swat for his comment.

"He's her grandfather. She wasn't particularly happy about him employing me, though. Do you know her?"

"I've done a few group assignments with her in Ancient Runes. I'm not sure what she plans to do when she leaves Hogwarts, but it would be a shame if it's something that doesn't use Runes. She easily outranks me in that class."

"Keeping a list of people who out-perform you?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Daphne Greengrass in Ancient Runes, you, Harry Potter, in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Neville Longbottom in Herbology," Hermione drilled off promptly, leaving Harry a little stunned. "Those are the ones I know for sure. Professors don't tell you, so I have to make an educated guess. All my other subjects, I'm pretty sure I'm leading, but I don't know about the other period with the other two houses unless someone tells me. It's a pretty tight race at the top."

"I'm ahead of you in Defence?" Harry asked.

"Was that the only thing you picked up from all that?" Hermione asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Sorry, it's just… really?"

"Yes, you've always been the top of the class when it came down to it. I might be ahead if the only thing that mattered was theory, but Defence is typically a practical class, and when it comes to the practical side of Defence, or even magic in general, honestly, you're ahead of even most seventh years. And, while it hurts to admit it, if you applied yourself like you did in that class to your other courses, you'd probably take away my lead in those ones as well."

Harry looked at his female friend incredulously.

"I'm serious, Harry! Tonight, with the vanishing spell? Your grasp of magic is… instinctual. Once you get it, it just works. It's never really been that way for me. I'm a bit too logical for my own good and it ends up hurting me when I need to perform under pressure."

Harry absorbed what his friend was telling him and after a moment, reached down into his bag and pulled out the blue covered book he still had from Mr. Greengrass.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, already looking hungrily at the book.

"What I did tonight with Ron and Neville… this book helped me get to that point," he said as he put it on the table next to Hermione. "It's not mine, but I hardly need to tell you to be careful with books, do I? Mr. Greengrass loaned it to me. I was actually writing this letter to ask if he wanted it back. Until he says he does, read it."

Hermione had already looked through preface of the book, her eyes flicking over the words faster than anything Harry could come close to. Hermione suddenly got up and gave Harry a very tight hug.

"Thank you, Harry."

She then ran up the stairs to her dorm, no doubt to read the book entirely before midnight or some other ridiculous hour of the night.


	13. The Dream Journal

**CHAPTER 13**

**~THE DREAM JOURNAL~**

Harry suddenly sat up ramrod straight in his bed, gasping for cool night air as he tore his sheets off like they were on fire.

Of course they hadn't left him, he thought miserably after a few moments of collecting himself. Of course his nightmares persisted, even after all this time and work at trying to distance himself from them. Angry at himself for not even being able to over-come a simple vision, he got out of his bed, leaving the sweat slicked sheets to dry as he headed for the dorms showers.

Why did Cedric's death bother him so much? He hardly knew him. Cedric Diggory had been little more than a rival Quidditch player to Harry until they were pitted against each other in an international competition Harry wasn't even supposed to be a part of. In fact, back in fourth year, for most the year, the only thing Harry could've said about Cedric was that his girlfriend was Cho Chang and that he was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Harry began to take a shower to try and get the feeling of his sweat off of him and to clear his head.

"_Harry… take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents…"_

Harry clenched his fists and teeth, remembering Cedric's shade making the simple request of him. He'd been killed in an instant. No warning, no chance to defend himself. A two word curse and he was reduced to asking a fourteen year old to take his body back to his parents.

In every nightmare he had of that night, he failed that one, simple request. In every single. one, Cedric would die, ask for Harry's help with something no one should ever have to ask anyone, and he couldn't do it.

He was powerless against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

The shades that had helped him hadn't bought him enough time.

He hadn't been able to dodge a Death Eaters spell.

Sometimes, he would get close. He'd manage to get to Cedric's body but when he would summon the cup, his magic would fail him.

"I didn't fail," Harry whispered to himself, trying to re-assure himself of the truth. "I didn't fail, I didn't fail, I didn't fail, I didn't fail…"

"I DIDN'T FAIL!" He shouted, angrily punching the masonry of the shower. He immediately regretted it, feeling a shooting pain go up his arm. He tried to look at the wound under the running water, but before he could determine the damage, someone called out.

"Harry, mate? Is that you?"

Harry turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel before he stepped out of the shower stall, finding Ron in his under-shorts and carrying his own items for a late-night shower.

"Blimey mate, what are you doing still up?"

"Look at the cauldron calling the kettle black."

"Right… What'd you do to your hand?" Ron decided to ask instead. "And what was that shout about?"

"Nothing," Harry said shiftily, putting his bloodied hand behind his back, only furthering Ron's suspicion of him.

"… Look, I don't want to pry or anything, but… We're all here for you."

The bathroom was quiet for a few moments while the two boys regarded each other.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry finally said.

"Don't mention it," Ron nodded. "Right. Well then, I'm going to… go shower now."

"Right."

"Right."

"…"

"I'm that way," Harry said, pointing behind Ron, who was currently blocking Harry's retreat from the suddenly awkward situation.

"Oh, bloody- sorry," Ron blushed furiously as he stepped away from the door out of the room.

"Good night, Ron."

"G'night, Harry."

However, once Harry changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas, he didn't immediately go to sleep. Instead, he grabbed the dream journal he was supposed to be keeping for Divination. He opened it up and stared at the first blank page, thinking.

And then he wrote.

Every detail of his nightmare he wrote down in painstaking detail. By the time he finished, he was exhausted. But he also felt something else. He felt a little lighter.

He had joked with Ron earlier about making up his dream entries, but if writing them down like this was going to make him feel this way…

The next morning, Harry woke up still feeling a bit more exhausted than he would've liked, but the usual moodiness that hung around him like a cloud following a night of terrible dreams seemed to be absent. Even his self inflicted wound seemed to have healed itself.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked as Harry and Neville joined her for breakfast.

"Dunno," Neville said, glancing over at Harry.

"He came in late last night."

"What was he doing?" Hermione asked critically.

"Didn't say. He's a prefect though, right? Maybe he was doing rounds?"

Harry's answer seemed to mollify Hermione as she went back to her waffles. Divination was the first Harry got to see of Ron, and judging by his dishevelled appearance, he'd decided to sleep in and skip breakfast. Despite what he'd told Hermione, Harry couldn't see Ron putting his prefect duties ahead of sleep, and therefore food, and wondered where Ron had been, but refrained from asking.

Professor Trelawney had walked around the room, asking to see people's progress on their dream journals, promptly causing some people to scribble in an entry before she came, Ron among that number. When she saw Harry's entry, and it's length and content, she raised a magnified eyebrow behind her large spectacles, but was otherwise silent as she continued to look down at the ridiculous dream Ron had fabricated.

"Hmmm, very dark things in your future, Mr. Weasley. Very dark indeed." After delivering her ominous warning, she moved on.

"What'd you put down?" Harry asked curiously once the Professor had moved on.

"Some rubbish about buying new robes." Ron said with a confused scowl. "How does she- never mind."

At the end of class, as the rest of the students were leaving, Trelawney managed to call out to Harry before he left, an impressive feat in itself with as fast as he usually left the classroom.

"Mr. Potter," the professor began, an air of her usual aloofness still present, but somehow a note of seriousness managing to impress itself upon Harry. "I wanted to discuss your dream journal entry."

Of course. The one time he put down something serious in the class, the batty woman thought he'd gone and made it up.

"Professor, it's a real-"

"I know that what you've written down is indeed what you see during your evening visions," the Professor interrupted. "It was refreshing to see a real effort from you," she continued, her voice carrying a note of clarity and distinct non-dreaminess to it. "However, I find it prudent to remind you that once these journals are swapped with my other class, your visions will no longer be private as they currently are."

"So… I should fake them?"

"No!" The Professor suddenly shouted frantically, her many beaded necklaces, earrings and bracelets joining in with their own sudden noise. "No," she repeated more composedly. "I should instead like to propose to you another option."

"Which is…?" Harry asked after a moment. Did she expect him to divine it from her?

"If you promise to me to continue to honestly document your dreams, I will ensure that the version of your dream journal that reaches the other class will not be able to be traced back to you." Harry was surprised at the sudden clarity Professor Trelawney was speaking to him with. Her sudden dichotomy was throwing him for a loop. Which version of her was real? The Professor continued despite Harry's sudden confounded condition.

"I had already planned to change the penmanship of each students entries to make it ambiguous as to whom they came from, but I will also remove any telling details from your visions, leaving only what will be required for the other student to interpret. However, this offer only stands so long as you make honest effort at recording your dreams. Do you find this agreeable?"

Too stunned to do anything as complex as speaking, Harry nodded.

"Very well," the Professor said, her dreamy voice coming back. "Until the next time the fates bring us together."

"What was that about?" Neville asked as he waited with Ron at the bottom of the ladder to the Divination classroom.

"My dream journal," Harry answered quickly, hoping his friends wouldn't ask more questions about it than that. "C'mon, we need to finish up those Bowtruckle drawings."

"You two head to the library," Ron told him and Neville. "I'll go find Hermione and bring her along."

By the time Ron had found and brought Hermione into the Library, Neville and Harry were finishing up their drawings and had decided to get a start on their Potions essays. This suited Ron and Hermione just fine as they descended into their own little world, Ron occasionally guiding Hermione's hand and Hermione occasionally forgetting how to draw straight lines.

Again, Harry thought about the couple he'd overheard at the Leaky Cauldron and couldn't stop the slightly disgusted face that accompanied the memory.

"Oh stop," Neville quietly said to him, his own face sporting a mild grin. "Let them enjoy it."

"I wasn't making a face for them," Harry whispered back, glancing to make sure his two other friends were still involved with each other. "Just… couples in general."

"No special lady you got your eye on?" Neville asked curiously.

"No," Harry said after a moment. "I'm more worried about trying to live to the ripe old age of seventeen than whether or not some bird fancies me. What do you think about this passage?" he tried deflecting, pointing at a paragraph in one of the books surrounding them. Neville allowed the change of topics, but Harry felt that the conversation wasn't exactly done.

When they all decided to head to Transfiguration, Neville and Harry were nearly finished with their Potions assignment and Ron and Hermione looked to be much more comfortable with sitting next to each other.

Despite Ron, Neville, and Harry impressing Professor McGonagall with their vast and sudden improvement with the vanishing spell, they were still assigned yet another written assignment over a foot long due by next week. And Professor McGonagall wasn't the only one. Professor Sprout, not to be out-done by her colleagues, decided to add to the assignment she'd only assigned them yesterday, and Professor Grubbly-Plank hopped on the band-wagon and decided to give them another piece of homework to do right after they'd turned in their Bowtruckle drawings.

"I doesn't end, does it?" Neville complained as he plopped down next to Harry.

"Fred and George were right," Ron agreed as he too let himself flop ungracefully to the bench beside Hermione, "this year will be the death of me. I've practically got my height worth of homework to do."

"Why didn't you do any of it last night?" Hermione asked. "Where did you go off to anyway?"

"I was… I fancied a walk."

"I told you he was doing patrols," Harry tried covering for his friend who flashed him an appreciative grin.

"Right, yes. I was patrolling. Prefect duties. Gotta love 'em."

"Right," Hermione said, obviously not buying it.

By the time that Friday finally came around, the only thing really keeping Harry from losing it with all the homework that had been assigned was that the weekend was tomorrow and flying was later today. He counted down the hours as his opportunity to get back up in the sky on his Firebolt came closer and closer.

Finally, after a rushed dinner, Harry was in the locker rooms at the Quidditch pitch changing into his uniform, smiling happily as he caught his reflection in one of the mirrors. His burgundy red and gold uniform with its number seven and his family name brought forth a feeling of joy deep down, making his heart race even faster as he gripped the handle of his broom.

"Potter! About time you came out of there. C'mon! We've got fresh meat to grind!" Angelina shouted down at him as he came out of the locker rooms. He shook his head as he leapt up into the sky on his Firebolt, his grin threatening to split his face in half.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked with a wide smile as he came up to Angelina's side in only a scant few seconds.

"That broom must be cheating," Angelina said as she lightly shook her head with a smile. "But, at least you're on our side. I want you to act as a diversion for our prospective Keepers every so often. Some daring dives, fancy loops, goofy faces, I don't care so long as you give them something to look at and give me the opportunity to yell at them for being distracted by our flamboyant seeker."

Harry just nodded his understanding to Angelina, smiling at her playful teasing. She then called the prospective keepers up to give them a run-down of what she would be having them do. That was when Harry noticed a particular brand of red hair sticking out from under one of the leather helmet's of a Keeper hopeful.

"Doth mine eyes deceiveth me, or doth the blighted countenance of thouest youngest brother darken these hallowed skies?" Fred asked as he came beside Harry, George less than a few yards away.

"Thou eyes see true," George replied.

"Harry, you're Ron's friend. Did you know he was trying out for the team?"

"No," Harry replied, noticing the nervous glances Ron stole towards him and his brothers. "But it's starting to make sense why he was tired these last few days…"

Angelina blew her whistle, cutting off any further discussion with the twins. Ron and a few of the other Keeper hopefuls flew down towards the base of the goal hoops while Harry ascended high above the playing field, his heart already beating crazily at the anticipation of flying around after so long.

On the second blow of Angelina's whistle, Harry went straight into a dive, actually letting out a whoop of joy as the cool wind bit at his face, hair, and uniform. He pulled out of the dive well before he came close to the ground, but still grinned as he felt his stomach sink with his sharp change in direction. He decided to zip up right in front of their prospective Keeper, a third year he'd only seen in passing a few times. He made sure to keep a safe distance from the younger student, but still elicited a very un-manly scream from the boy as he flashed by near the top speed of his Firebolt.

The laughter of his team-mates and spectators whipped past his ears as he did a wide circle of the Quidditch pitch, coming to a rest at the opposite end of the pitch to watch the team play and to also catch his breath. But he could only stay still for so long. His adrenalin was pumping and he hadn't been on his Firebolt in what felt like years.

Harry made sure to keep Angelina pleased with his interference, doing his level best to try and be fair with how much he harassed each prospective Keeper. However, everyone was a little more on guard after what had happened with the now very embarrassed third year. While Harry was more interested in having a good time on his broom than who ended up being their new keeper, he did keep tabs on all the new players. There were a few really good ones that stood out to him, mostly due to their nerves of steel when he had tried distracting them. Ron would be facing some serious competition.

When it was his friends turn to defend the hoops, the sky was starting to darken with the setting sun. It would be a real challenge for Ron if this went on too long. At Angelina's whistle, everyone sprung into action. Some of the old team was starting to show signs of being tired, which would work to Ron's favour, but just as that though came to Harry's mind, a bludger flew towards Ron, nearly striking him in the arm. It seemed the twins still were carrying a small grudge about their little brother outshining them with his prefect appointment.

Harry began to climb high for another dive. Distractions were tricky things, working both ways sometimes. While he didn't want to give Ron any kind of unfair advantage, he didn't want the twins to give him an unfair disadvantage, either.

At the apex of his climb, Harry ceded control of his broom just enough for it to begin to fall as if it had just lost all it's enchantments. Relying purely on his ability to yank the broom in the direction he wanted, harry allowed himself to tumble a bit, causing some people to begin to yell and point. Before he got too close to the ground, however, Harry firmly reasserted his control on the broom, the Firebolt instantly obeying his will and sharply levelling out of his tumble only to transition straight into a pure burst of speed forward.

He was now flying at the Firebolts maximum speed, darting towards each of his team-mates while gradually making his way towards Ron. He made sure to buzz the twins a bit closer than the rest of the team, throwing them off their game just enough to give Ron a chance to defend an incoming quaffle. However, no sooner had he caught the red ball did he nearly drop it as Harry whizzed by. There were a few goals that Ron missed, one in particular that should've been an easy save, but he was far from the worst showing.

Angelina blew her whistle just as the sun set behind the mountains surrounding the castle.

"Alright, that's it for tonight. Everyone who's already part of the team, meet me in the locker room. Those of you who tried out, wait up in the common room. I'll announce results later this evening."

As Harry flew down to the locker rooms, Fred and George came along side him.

"That was some fancy flying there at the end there, Harry."

"Yes, some of your best yet."

"So good of you to test out your control of your Firebolt after having been out of the game so long by buzzing us whilst we were performing our brotherly duties."

"Yes, so good indeed."

"I just wanted to make sure Ron got the same chance to prove himself as everyone else," Harry defended. "You two nearly broke his arm with some of those shots."

"Quidditch is a dangerous game," George defended.

"You three going to take all evening to get in here?" Angelina yelled as Harry and the twins stepped into the room.

"Please tell me we're getting another female," Katie said as the three males joined the three females in the locker room.

"Unfortunately, Vicky Frobisher said she'd rather go to her Charm Club than Quidditch practice, and I will not take on someone who won't dedicate themselves to winning the Cup this year."

"Bollocks," Katie muttered.

"What about Hooper?" Alicia asked. "He seemed decent enough."

"He might've played a good game tonight, but you've not had classes with him," Katie said, clearly not liking the idea of having to put up with whoever Hooper was.

"Katie's right," Angelina said with a sigh. "He's a real complainer and whines incessantly. As soon as he has to stay up a bit later than normal or go to practice a bit more often, he'd be a hassle to deal with."

George and Fred exchanged looks. They didn't seem all too keen on staying up later or having endure longer practices either.

"Who've you got in mind then?" Alicia asked.

"Well, he's not the first choice, both Hooper and Frobisher were better players, but so far as I know, he's got a lot of room to improve if his family is anything to go by."

"Wait," George quickly said, holding up his arm like a traffic cop. "You're not possibly thinking about-"

"He showed the best performance tonight after the two people we can't take on," Angelina defended.

"Yeah, sure but-" Fred was quickly cut off by Alicia who looked very concerned.

"No, no, no, you can't seriously be thinking about letting ANOTHER one of them on the team?!"

"Look, unless you all saw someone else who was able to play well enough not to be a total mess and wouldn't give their best, Ron's our best choice. And, with his brothers on the team, he'll try that much harder to do better."

"Or else," George added darkly while cracking his knuckles.

After it had been decided that Ron would be the new keeper, everyone began to change out of their uniforms to head back up to the common room to deliver the good news to Ron. However, as Harry was showering off, a searing pain shot through his scar while at the same time, a strange and unwelcome feeling came from his gut. It was almost similar to the giddy joy he'd felt before the try-outs, but completely foreign and malignant.

The painful burning of his scar faded quickly, but the uneasy feeling he had after he'd stepped out of the showers remained even after the good news had been delivered to Ron. A party was started in celebration and Ron continually came over to Harry to tell him how grateful he was for the chance to play. He made sure to remind Ron that Angelina should be the one getting all the thanks.

Angelina was less than pleased to have Ron continually sing her praises, however, Harry didn't stick around the party long enough to feel the true extent of her ire. He decided to turn in a little earlier than what was usual for a Friday night, still not feeling completely fine after his strange experience in the locker room showers.

"Oh, it's you again."

Bright green cat like eyes were once again looking down at Harry. The red fox jumped off his chest and began waiting for him just a few yards away.

"Are we going for another walk?" Harry asked the creature as he sat up. Once again, the fox tilted it's head in reply.

"I don't see how we're supposed to get to know each other if I'm the only one doing the talking," he told the fox, finally getting up to his feet.

The fox surprised him by making a strange, subdued chirp. He'd never actually heard a fox before and hadn't known what to expect, but before he could try and coax the animal to make the noise again, the fox began to trot ahead.

"I don't suppose you could actually speak to me, could you? Like a normal… er… well, I suppose a normal fox wouldn't speak, much less have even come up to me would it? So, already a bit strange, are you?" The fox made another strange noise that sounded slightly threatening.

"Sorry!" Harry quickly apologized, suddenly remembering the sharp teeth the creature had used the last time he'd been in this strange space. The fox just studiously avoided looking back at him and seemed to pick up its pace just a tad, enough to be moving at a speed that was right between a brisk walk and a light jog making it incredibly annoying to keep pace with it.

"I just meant… well, none of this is very normal, is it? This place, the way you interact with me, whatever those cracks and snakes were about last time…"

Harry had been following the fox for a while, significantly longer than he remembered following it last time, and began to wonder what he was doing here.

"Am I going to end up here every time my scar acts up?" he asked his fox companion. As he expected, the animal didn't respond. "Why now?" he wondered aloud. His scar had hurt plenty of times before, but he'd never interacted with the strange fox before.

Was this a side effect of the ritual Voldemort had performed? His scar had been pretty tame throughout the summer, the only time it had ever truly bothered him had been after his hearing when he'd looked Dumbledore in the eyes. That had been the first time he'd been visited by the mysterious fox as well. And now, after having that strange sense of distant, unpleasant joy while in the showers, here he was again. With the fox.

Did the fox have something to do with Voldemort?

Harry peered down at the animal who continued to trot at it's annoyingly difficult to match pace. But the longer he stared, the more he was convinced that the fox wasn't some malicious force. Quite the opposite, in fact. The last time, when he and the fox had dealt with the snakes, he had gotten the sense that the fox was helping him protect something. What, he didn't know. But one thing he had gathered was that the snakes were bad and the fox was good.

"Is this all in my head?" Harry asked, not at all surprised when the fox refused to answer him. He stopped trying to keep up with the animal and stood in place for a moment, looking around. He tried pinching himself to see what would happen. He certainly felt the pinch, but he didn't seem to be waking up. He flailed his arms about, trying to touch the strange whiteness that was all around him.

Nothing.

He looked down at himself and saw he was wearing his pyjamas he'd worn to bed. He remembered that last time he'd been in the nice clothes Mrs. Weasley had made him wear for his trial. Well, that was something. Maybe.

When he looked back up, he noticed the fox staring him down.

"Stop that. It's rude to stare."

The fox didn't seem to be bothered by any sense of social protocol and continued to stare at Harry intently.

"Fine then, but don't come complaining to me after this next bit."

Harry unbuttoned and took off his shirt and was about to do the same with his pants when he suddenly stopped and looked down at his right arm.

Since the end of second year, a large splotchy scar had been ever-present on the top side of Harry's right forearm, a permanent reminder of his encounter with Salazar Slytherin's protector of Hogwarts. He'd always been self-conscious of it, much like his other, much more well known and visible scar, and had always tried to cover it up with long sleeves, even on the hottest of days. But now, in this strange never-verse, it was completely and utterly gone.

Forgetting about his shirt and letting it drop like a hot coal, Harry quickly moved his hands upwards towards his forehead, quickly feeling around for the scar he _knew_ was there, broadcasting his unfortunate past to the entire world.

But it wasn't. The slight ridge and ever present faint heat the wound usually had were absent. He also finally noticed he had no problems seeing the fox a few yards away even though his glasses were gone.

"What-?" Harry frantically asked, now double checking all of himself. The burn on his left wrist from when he'd got himself when he was eight and helping aunt Petunia cook? Gone. The scar from a pencil that had been accidentally stabbed into his right thigh when he was eight? Like it never happened. Even the faint marks on his foot and hand that he'd earned from his recent botched apparition were completely missing, even though they had been healing nicely and would probably be gone anyway in about a week.

Out of a pure sense of curiosity, Harry pulled out the elastic waist-band of his pants to double check himself, but upon seeing nothing had changed in that regard and hearing another strange bark-like noise from the fox who he had completely forgotten about, embarrassedly let go and let his pants snap back into place.

"What is going on?" he wondered aloud. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think of anything he could do that might get him some answers or clues. Last time he'd been here, he had come across some kind of fracture in the space. He'd been able to close it with a command, so maybe…

When he opened his eyes again, the fox was in a ready stance like it had been the last time they'd come across the fractures, only there were none around presently. Could the fox sense what he was thinking? Well, if this was all in his head…

He shook his head and followed the foxes lead, crouching slightly into a ready pose, suddenly wishing he had his wand or something else to help the fox with before berating himself.

"Wand!" he yelled out, holding out his hand.

Nothing.

Harry felt his face redden as he looked over at the fox who was still in a ready pose.

"Right, just a fox. Okay then, open!" Harry shouted, half expecting nothing to happen again. Except this time, it did.

The last time Harry had seen the strange fractures, they'd been small, just large enough for snakes to fall out of. This time, they were gaping large holes, large enough for a person to walk through. Only, it wasn't people who were walking through the rifts he'd suddenly created, but floating, skeletal wraiths cloaked in tattered wispy black robes. Dementors.

"CLOSE!" Harry yelled frantically. But the Dementors were already in the space. Even as the fractures closed behind them, the bone chilling cold coming off the creatures was starting to get to Harry. However, before despair completely overcame him, the green eyed fox leapt at the half-dozen Dementors, fearlessly charging at them.

But unlike last time with the snakes, the foxes bites didn't seem to be doing much to the Dementors besides causing them to focus on the creature. As the group of wraiths focused on the fox, Harry began to feel a headache on the scale he'd never felt before. The pure white world he was currently standing in also began to flicker and darken. The vixen began to make pitiful yelps that tore at Harry's heart more than he could've expected. Distantly, he once again began to recall the forlorn, dying scream of his mother…

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Harry yelled reflexively. All his training with Remus had conditioned him to yell out the incantation at the desperate screams of his mother. In a sick and twisted way, he'd learned to recall his most bright and positive memories at her mournful cry. And in this case, it seemed to have once again saved him.

Immediately, an ethereal stag came into existence, seeming to leap out of Harry himself, and charge directly towards the fox who was surrounded by the rattling Dementors. The Patronus didn't even need to touch the Dementors before they began to dissolve into black vapour, much like the serpents had before. Once the dark creatures were gone, Harry rushed towards the fox who seemed to still be moving, but wasn't getting up.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked anxiously, his Patronus coming up to his side and leaned down towards the fox as well. Strangely, the fox almost completely disregarded Harry as it stared solely at the stag beside him. He watched in fascination as his stag further lowered it's head towards the fox, and after a moment seemed to sniff at it. The fox, in turn, sniffed back, and then to Harry's utter bewilderment, licked his Patronus.

The next thing he knew, Harry was sitting up in his bed, a white glow fading just as he awoke.

"What?" he asked aloud.

Slowly, he reached up to his forehead and to his utter disappointment, felt the ridges and faint heat of his lightning bolt scar. The angry splotch on his arm was still there, and the burn, and the lines on his fingers and toes… perhaps it had been a tad bigger…

Sighing, Harry flopped back down onto his bed. But his mind was too busy and racing from whatever he'd just experienced to go to sleep. Deciding that he might be able to go back to sleep if he just tried to get everything out of his system, Harry grabbed his dream journal and began to write down everything he'd just experienced, remembering his discussion with Professor Trelawney and making sure to include every last detail… well, maybe he would be okay with leaving his size checking bit out... By the time he'd managed to write in the last few details, he had tired himself out once again and went back to sleep.

AN: Another double whammy update for you all. I hope you all enjoyed the new content and I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	14. A Secret Contact

**CHAPTER 14**

**~A SECRET CONTACT~**

When Harry awoke on Saturday morning, he allowed himself a few moments to just lay in his bed, watching dust motes float around in the fresh sun light that was coming through his bed's curtains.

They weren't particularly nice looking curtains, Harry thought randomly. He never had much of an eye for interior design, beyond knowing that his aunt and uncle didn't have one either, their gaudy home had always been a grating sight for anyone who walked inside. Regardless of all that, he could suddenly start to understand, slightly, why Dumbledore would set them alight.

Harry's mind continued to drift around until he suddenly halted his train of thought and shot back to his musing about Dumbledore.

No pain.

He freely allowed his mind to wander and wonder about any topic so long as Dumbledore had a part in it, which was a disturbingly wide range of topics. Still, besides some natural irritation Harry felt towards the man with all his actions and inactions the last few months, he didn't feel any budding headache or tingling in his scar. After a while though, Harry decided to do something better with his Saturday morning than spend it thinking about his headmaster.

Confirming that the weather was decent, Harry put on a coat and decided to walk the castle grounds for a while. The early morning air immediately finished waking him up with its chill, and once the cold became a bit too invigorating, he cast a warming charm, causing a grin to begin to spread across his face as he recalled casting its opposite back in Diagon Alley.

He was still waiting on a reply from Mr. Greengrass and Sirius, and he honestly didn't know who he was more anxious to hear from. He had briefly entertained the thought of asking Daphne Greengrass about the condition of her grandfather, but after her reception of him back during the summer and her continued cool and indifferent looks throughout the week, Harry figured that he would be better off in the dark about the man's condition for a while longer.

His meandering feet had somehow brought him towards Hagrid's empty hut, its continued vacancy making Harry frown in worry a bit before he began to turn to trudge back towards the castle, his walk having achieved his intended purpose of getting him some fresh air.

However, before he could step off towards the castle, he heard a strange fluttering sound, like a heavy cloak being flapped by the wind. But, no matter how much Harry looked around Hagrid's home, he couldn't identify the source, not until he realized the sound was coming from above. Quickly turning his search skyward, Harry almost immediately identified his query, its dark leathery skin contrasting greatly against the bright backdrop the early morning sky was providing.

Just as quickly as Harry saw the creature, it seemed to sense his gaze and dove back into the trees, the distant sound vanishing along with its profile.

Harry stood in place, seemingly frozen, for a few moments trying to madly work out what he wanted to do. A part of him he recognized and knew was reckless and curious wanted to go into the Forbidden Forest and investigate the strange creature. However, the part of him that ended up winning out was the part that knew it was much to early in the year to get wrapped up in something that could end either his life or school career.

"Morning Harry," Ron greeted cheerily before noticing his face. "You alright, mate? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ron couldn't have known that Sir Nicholas was behind him at the moment he decided to use that particular expression. However, he was soon aware of the ghost's presence as he decided to take a shortcut across the room and drift right though Ron.

Harry used the distraction his House ghost provided to quickly decide that telling his friends about the strange horse only he and Luna could see might not be the best course of action.

"Just a bad dream," Harry covered. He instantly felt terrible as clouded expressions came over all his friends' faces, now that they had at least an idea what a 'bad' dream meant for him.

"Perhaps some practice before practice might cheer you up?" Ron suggested as he loaded his plate up with another helping of bangers. Hermione, however, knew the true purpose of Ron's proposal and quickly reminded him of the duties he was shirking.

"Don't you have a few feet of assignments that you need to do yet?"

Ron's enthusiastic eating faltered for a moment before he seemed to rally himself.

"I've still got tomorrow," he began, having the forethought to swallow enough food that his speech was understandable at least. "And I know you've got everything done by now anyway, so if I get hung up on something-"

"You'll just have to struggle through it on your own." Hermione finished for him, studiously looking at the contents of her plate as if they were some cryptic Arithmancy problem.

"Wha- bu-" Ron sputtered, nearly choking on his half eaten food. "But what about Harry and me? You wouldn't-"

"Actually, mate," Harry jumped in quickly, "I've nearly finished up my assignments. Just a bit more to go with Professor Sprout's essay on different self-fertilizing plants. Speaking of which, mind if I get a bit of help from you on that later, Neville?"

"S-sure!" Neville replied, his face lighting up a bit. "But you're going to have to help me out with the summoning charm and its counter. My feather has been wavering a bit too much for my liking and-"

"So wait," Ron suddenly interrupted, looking very lost, "I'm the only one who still has over several feet of writing to do?" The silence around him was all the answer he needed. Hermione suddenly sighed loudly.

"IF you promise to put in effort today AND tomorrow at getting it done, MAYBE I'll let you look over my notes." Ron immediately perked up. "BUT!" Hermione quickly tacked on, "ONLY my notes. I'm not going to let you copy anything this year, Ron."

Ron deflated a little, but still looked better than he had before Hermione offered her notes.

"Sorry, Harry. I guess I'll meet up with you for practice later."

"It's fine, Ron. I actually think-"

But before Harry could enlighten any of his friends on how he planned on spending his Saturday morning, the post arrived, and among the owls that flew into the great hall was a majestic white owl that landed beside him.

"Good morning, girl," Harry said, having already snatched up a bit of bacon for his owl as soon as he had spotted her ostentatious colouring. Hedwig gave a happy hoot as Harry relieved her of her letters, remaining only a moment longer to give him a parting nip before departing with the rest of the owls.

The first letter he noticed was enclosed in a very fancy envelope, its paper heavier and thicker than what was common and was written in a hand he'd come to recognize easily over the summer as Mr. Greengrass'. The other envelope, however, lacked any identifying marks at all, from its plain composition to the absolute lack of any writing on the outside.

The curiosity of receiving a blank envelope getting the better of him, Harry opened the blank envelope to find that the paper inside was even more of a mystery. A single leaf of paper with only one number written on it, '173'. Harry flipped the paper back and forth at least three times, expecting some magic message to reveal itself, but only the single number remained, unchanging.

Scowling slightly, Harry decided to try and read Mr. Greengrass' letter, hoping for something a bit more substantial and understandable. He was not disappointed.

_Harry Potter,_

_First, I would like to thank you for sending the letter you did. Truth be told, I was unsure whether I should begin this dialogue or wait for a letter from you. It seems in my idleness, you went and decided for me._

_Second, I would like to express my most sincere and profound gratefulness for what you did for me. I, and my family, owe you a debt that will not soon be forgotten. _

_Third, I am glad that the book I loaned you has proven so useful these last few weeks. It seems you are already doing what I planned to do with it, loaning it out to your friend as you did, so I will leave the book in your care from now on. It is the least I can do to begin to repay you for what all you have done for me. _

_As for my condition, I am doing fine. The staff here says that I will be fit for work again in a few days, even though my medically trained mind has been saying I could have returned to my shop nearly a week ago._

_Ophelia has told me that you seemed to be in good condition when you had been brought here yourself, only some splinching from your first apparition. She also said you had been accompanied by a shifty character that sounded much like a customer I remember you having a disagreement with. I believe you had called him a family friend of sorts? I do not want to make myself seem like a meddler, so I will only say that should you need any help with anything at all, do not hesitate to call upon me or my daughter, Ophelia._

_Speaking of meddling old men, Dumbledore was very insistent on speaking to me shortly after I had been cleared for visitors. He made it clear to me what kind of information can be public knowledge and what must remain secret. After I had made it clear just what I had thought of that, I became acquainted with very different Dumbledore._

_Be on your guard around that man, Harry._

_In the end, despite my best efforts, I must apologize for being unable to speak in your defence at your trial. Even with you being cleared in the end, it hurt my pride and honour being unable to stand up for your brave actions._

_There is still much more I would like to discuss with you, but find this parchment lacks the fidelity I wish for. If you find it agreeable, I would like to arrange a date upon which we could meet and discuss things that are of importance to us both. Write back to me at your convenience with a date that would work for you should you agree to such a meeting._

_Your Very Grateful Friend,_

_Zacharias J. Greengrass_

As Harry refolded the letter into the envelope it had came in, he tried to think about what Mr. Greengrass may want to discuss with him and when such a discussion could take place. He was also concerned with the way Mr. Greengrass had spoke of Dumbledore.

Harry ended up doing the remainder of his homework with Ron and Hermione, Neville deciding to join in with them as well. By the time lunch rolled around, Harry felt strangely light with the realization that his Sunday would be totally free of any homework. Ron, on the other hand, still had many feet left to go. Hermione even tried to convince him to skip his first ever Quidditch team practice to try and get more done, but gave up on that once Angelina overheard the blasphemous notion.

Practice ended up being less than stellar. Ron had given Katie Bell a bloody nose with a botched throw almost as soon as practice had started, and while the twins had managed to fix that up with a counter to their Bloody-Nose Nougat, it still hadn't saved them from any of the jibes or laughter from the Slytherins who decided to see what kind of Quidditch team they were up against. Then, later, when they had gone into trying to play an actual game, Ron was having all sorts of trouble with choosing where to guard and actually successfully guarding. All the while, the Slytherins held back nothing with their taunts. Dejected, Ron had nearly shut himself away when he got back up to the common room, Hermione only managing to get him back to doing more of his homework by promising to check over his work.

The next day, Harry decided to use his new-found free time to finally read the book he'd gotten from Sirius. Ron and Hermione would be too busy going over homework to interrupt him, and Neville had decided to volunteer some time down in the greenhouses, so he would be able to read the book in privacy.

As Harry once again opened the book, something he'd not done since receiving it at the beginning of the week, he browsed the table of contents once again, getting more and more interested in the books content as he looked through the subjects it covered. One subject, however, broke him out of his dizzying daydreams. Well, not so much the subject itself as the page number it began on. 173.

Harry quickly reached back into his trunk for the mysterious letter he'd received yesterday and confirmed that the two numbers were indeed the same. Had the letter been from Sirius? Harry hurriedly opened the book to 'Magic Infused Body Art".

_The practice of marking one's body with varying dyes and pigments to create words or images upon the skin has been in practice since ancient times in muggle culture. But few Muggle's realize that the original idea for such body modification came from early magical people. Ancient shaman would store ancestral knowledge upon their skin and enchant their markings to be able to tell stories, assisting them in keeping record of thousands of years of history without contemporary reading and writing._

_But you, dear reader, are no ancient shaman. You're a sophisticated individual who has well founded concerns about their privacy. In your pursuit of privacy, no magic shall be left unexplored, especially such a medium as this, which has escaped the notice of European Magical Ministries for centuries._

Harry continued to read the entry on magical tattoo's well into the afternoon and only put down the book after he finished the whole chapter on the subject.

In the course of his reading, blood magic had once again reared its head. Harry had already gotten the impression before that blood magic was powerful and dangerous, but the depictions in the book of what could go wrong for something as seemingly simple as a magical tattoo made him realize the true potential for harm. Did Sirius plan to get something like this and was giving Harry some forewarning? Or was he trying to tell Harry to get one?

Harry's musing was suddenly interrupted by an angry protest from his stomach. He'd read right through lunch and now was feeling well past peckish. He glanced out a window and noticed the sun beginning to settle upon the mountains around the castle. Hoping he would still be able to catch some dinner, Harry quickly joined his friends in the Great Hall and ate.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked as Harry took a seat beside her, quickly loading his plate with delicious looking food.

"Reading," Harry quickly answered before digging into his meal. Hermione certainly wasn't satisfied with the single word answer, but before she could hit Harry with the gamut of questions, Ron finished his meal.

"There you are, Harry," Ron said, finally realizing his friend had come down for dinner. "I had been about to go up and get you for dinner, but when I had gone to get you for lunch, you had seemed so focused."

"You came up during lunch?" Harry didn't remember hearing or seeing anyone at any point when he had been reading.

"Yeah, but you were really focused on that book, didn't even react when I called your name. Glad to see you were able to break away for some dinner, though."

"How's the homework coming along?" Neville asked from across the table.

"Nearly finished," Hermione replied for Ron. At the mention of homework, Ron's face fell, telling both Harry and Neville all they needed to know about what Ron thought of Hermione's statement.

"Perhaps you two would like to join us?" Ron asked with unbridled hope. "Just to… you know… go over it one last time? It couldn't hurt to make sure everything is good before Monday, yeah?"

Before either Neville or Harry could come up with appropriate excuses, Hermione jumped on the idea.

"You know, that's not a bad idea," she said, looking thoughtfully up into the air. "I'm sure the two of you could only benefit from going over your work one last time, and I think it would help Ron out to have someone else to bounce ideas off of." Ron eagerly nodded to Hermione's points, pleading with his eyes for Harry and Neville not to leave him alone with Hermione for any longer.

"I suppose," Harry finally agreed, finishing his dinner roll. "I've finished reading what I've wanted to today, anyway."

"A bit of revision wouldn't hurt," Neville agreed. "Professor Sprout said she was finished for the day as well."

"Excellent!" Hermione said happily as she finished a leafy salad she had been poking at. Ron enthusiastically nodded as well.

Going over their assignments ended up being a good choice for Harry, the extra eyes helping him spot mistakes he'd made and would've turned in if not for the sharp eye of Hermione. She would occasionally raise her eyebrows at a point Harry had made in some of his essays, and to his shock, would occasionally add a titbit to her own after going through his work.

"What?" she finally asked after he watched her add a bit to her own work again. "It was a good point." Harry's ego inflated a bit each time this happened, but Hermione made sure to keep him in check by pointing out some of his more glaring flaws in his astronomy assignment. Everyone was getting ready to turn in for the night when Neville spotted an owl hanging around the dormitory window.

"What'cha lookin- Hey! That's Hermes!" Ron said, noticing Neville's distracted gaze. He quickly got up from the table and opened the window for the bird, retrieving a letter from its leg before the owl flew off in a hurry.

Harry, Hermione and Neville all watched as Ron got more and more upset the further he read the letter, finally finishing and promptly tearing up the parchment as if it were the most offensive thing he'd ever received.

"He's the most massive git in the world!" Ron shouted as he made pulp of the letter before throwing it into the common room's fire.

"Who?" Neville asked, a bit lost with the Weasleys' current family drama involving Percy. Harry had been a bit out of the loop himself until he'd been caught up on it all back at Grimmauld Place earlier before the start of Hogwarts.

"My idiot git of a brother, Percy, that's who!"

"Oh," Neville responded, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What did the letter say?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder and guiding him back to his seat.

"How he was proud that I was made bloody prefect like him," Ron began, glaring menacingly at his own chest where his prefect badge was. "He also spouted some rubbish about how Harry was a dangerous and unstable individual, how Dumbledore was hardly any better, and that 'grand changes' are on their way to Hogwarts and that I should 'endeavour to be on the right side of them.'"

Everyone sat in silence as they each thought over what Percy Weasley had written to his brother and about what it all meant. Had he been too far off the mark when he'd called Harry dangerous and unstable? Harry wasn't all to sure, but the fact that Ron had decided to stick with him told him all he needed to about his loyalty. At the moment, anyway.

"Can we be done for the night, Hermione?" Ron sighed after a while, all of them having remained silent and still for the last five minutes. "It's nearly midnight and the only thing I have left isn't due till Tuesday."

"I suppose," Hermione sighed back, though Harry could tell she was just as ready for bed as Ron was.

"Thanks for all the help tonight," Neville said to her as she began collecting her assignments. "I feel loads more confident turning these in tomorrow." Hermione grew a large smile at the thanks and nodded to the three boys before heading up to bed. Ron, Neville and Harry weren't up too much later, all three of them falling asleep within a few seconds of hitting their beds.

* * *

Sirius readjusted and pulled his robe a bit closer as another muggle walked by, staggering back home after a late night of drinking if the stench of alcohol wafting after him was any indicator.

He was finally doing it. The plan he'd put into motion weeks ago, the one he thought up just after Harry's trial, had finally come to its make or break moment. Well, almost.

Truth be told, this step had always been a bit iffy, but if it did happen, he knew it would make the rest of his plan that much easier. Of course, if it didn't work out tonight, then everything would be exponentially harder but…

"Positive thoughts," Sirius whispered out loud, a small condensate cloud appearing at his self encouragement.

"That the trick you used to keep the Dementors away while in Azkaban?"

"You're late," Sirius said evenly, though his heart was beating anything but.

"And you're lucky I even came at all."

"How long have you been there?" Sirius asked the still disembodied, featureless voice, not wasting the energy to try and look around for them.

"Long enough to know that if you were the crazed mad-man they say you were, you'd have a body count in the twenties by now. Also, long enough to realize you've let your skills of observation slide quite a bit."

Sirius scowled angrily at himself. They'd been there that long and he'd not even realized? No wonder Dumbledore had told him to remain indoors.

… He still didn't like the old codger though.

"So, you must have an extraordinary reason for contacting me the way you did, and then coming all the way out here with the deplorable state your self preservation skills are in."

"I need a tattoo."

"…"

"Are you still-"

"A tattoo."

"A magical one, of course," Sirius said, feeling a bit defensive at the way he was being talked to by the still invisible voice.

"I should hope."

"… Will you do it?" Sirius hated sounding so needy in front of a person he still didn't truly know even after nearly a decade and a half of 'knowing' them.

"Why me?"

Sirius hesitated. Why them indeed.

He had discovered this person back when he and James had worked with Frank and Alice as 'freelancers' for the Aurors. James was too straight laced to go looking for seedy individuals who might also be interested in the demise of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and that was before he'd gotten hitched to Lily.

This person was someone James would've heartily disproved of had Sirius ever introduced him to them. They could get items from the black market within hours of them being requested, they knew things about the Death Eaters that only someone on the inside should know, and always concealed their identity with magic that trumped anything he'd seen the Unspeakables use in the ministry.

But despite all the indicators that this person should be his enemy, Sirius had always gotten the impression that they were more invested in fall of Voldemort and his followers than he'd been at the time.

"You know that He's back, yes?" Sirius finally asked. He was met with silence and briefly wondered if his contact had left. But some part of him knew they were still there, waiting for him to explain.

"He's going to hurt people again. People I care about, and amazingly, who care about me. If I want to help protect them, I need to take action. And part of that action requires me to make a sacrifice soon. If you agree to do this tonight, that sacrifice can be lessened. If not…"

Sirius waited in silence again and this time genuinely thought that his contact had left. He was just about to get up and leave to initiate the final steps of his plan when a cloaked and hooded figure suddenly revealed themselves a few feet away and in the shadows.

"Take my hand," they commanded. Sirius didn't wait to be told twice and stood up quickly to take the person's hand. It was the first time they had actually ever physically touched and he was surprised by the daintiness of the offered hand. He of course kept this thought to himself as he was suddenly side-long apparated.

When the unpleasant travel finally concluded, he found himself standing outside a shack on the edge of a clearing of old trees. The figure was already walking up to the shack and Sirius quickly caught up with them.

"Inside," they said, opening the door for him. Sirius briefly thought about how if this was a trap, he was walking right into it, but decided to trust this person just a bit longer. They'd never done him wrong in the past, and they had all the opportunity to call the Aurors on him earlier.

The inside of the shack was sparsely furnished and mundane, no trace of an expanding charm or any other bit of magic to enhance the wooden and stone structure.

"So, a magical tattoo."

"Yes," Sirius replied, turning to see the figure had come into the shack as well and shut the door behind them. "The kind I have in mind is a bit… unique. One of the reasons I came to you was because you're the only one I know who has any kind of knowledge on the kind of magic it'll require."

"'The only one you know?'" the figure parroted. "Come now, Sirius, lies like that will not help you any. Before Azkaban, you were close with Dumbledore, no sense trying to hide that from me. That old man is forgiving to a fault and knows more about magic than the entire country combined. Seems a much safer bet than me. Surely you would've gone to him. In fact, I'm willing to bet you already have."

"Right, well, perhaps I should rather say that you're the only one who would be willing to do what I require. That is much more accurate," Sirius said, turning a little red at having been read so easily. He once again was reminded that if this person truly wished it, they could wreak havoc on him and many people in the Order with as much as they had pieced together.

"Better." The figure said as they summoned a chair into the middle of the room, gesturing for Sirius to take a seat. "So, I take it that this tattoo involves blood magic, then?"

Sirius nodded as he removed his cloak and sat.

"Yes," he replied simply. After a beat of silence, the hooded figure gave a small nod.

"Tell me the details."

**AN**: After battling many hours of writers block, here it is, Chapter 14. My Beta was a bit... displeased about my failure to correctly use 'it's' and 'its' in my draft, so I've decided to grant them a wish. That wish shall remain a secret for now, but you'll know soon enough. Thanks again for reading so far and I look forward to seeing you all again in the next chapter.


	15. Epiphany In An Alleyway

**CHAPTER 15**

**~EPIPHANY IN AN ALLEYWAY~**

Sirius crumpled the Daily Prophet he was reading, his conviction on what he was about to do strengthened by the front page article.

"Revolutionising defence my arse," Sirius mumbled as he tossed the worthless rag of a newspaper back at the paper boy he'd just bought it from.

"Oi!" the annoying young man yelled as Sirius began to stalk down the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Fudge, in his efforts to make it appear to the public like there was nothing to worry about, had kept security at the Ministry ridiculously light. In fact, Sirius felt over prepared with the disguise he'd put together.

Eugene Kirkwall was a respectable gentleman and if you asked the clerk who checked his wand at the ministry at 8:34 this morning, she'd tell you he had a very charming smile. As he boarded the lift to head down further into the Ministry, he received a remarkably full smile from the lift operator, the man having the whitest, most well kept teeth Sirius had ever seen.

"Good mornin' to ya," the lift operator greeted. As there were no other people in the lift, Sirius knew he was being spoken to.

"Good morning," Sirius returned succinctly, hoping that would be the end of their exchange. The fewer people he interacted with and made an impression on, the better.

"I ain't seen you before," the man said naturally as the lift suddenly changed directions, the sudden change in motion not stopping the operator from giving Sirius a look up and down. "You new?"

"Just visiting," Sirius returned, starting to get annoyed. He tapped the silver badge on his robes that had been given to him earlier by the wand check clerk.

"Oh, so that's what it was," the operator said, as if enlightened. "I'm actually pretty new myself, not seen many visitors yet."

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the cool female voice announced as the lift finally came to a stop.

"Cheers," Sirius said as he stepped off the lift, grateful to be rid of the overly inquisitive operator.

"Have a pleasant day, Mr. Black."

Sirius froze before he quickly spun around to see that the lift had already left.

Now, slightly panicked his disguise wasn't as great as he'd thought it was, he cautiously began to make his way forward. Would the operator raise an alarm? How long did he have to complete his plan before he was discovered by someone more significant?

As he walked through the open Auror offices, he managed to get a friendly smile and nod from an Auror who looked overworked and ready to go home only a few hours into his morning. Sirius promptly nodded back at, trying to maintain some semblance of nonchalance after his cover had been blown by a lift operator, of all people. As Sirius approached the office of Amelia Bones, he made sure to catch the secretary's attention and hold it with a roguish smile which Eugene Kirkwall seemed to manage very easily.

"How may I help you, sir?" the woman asked as Sirius came to a stop just in front of her desk. As he captured her attention, he subtly cast a simple spell at the calender on the desk between them before casting a more complex piece of replication magic just to make doubly sure.

"I'm here for my appointment with Madam Bones. I was told it was rather urgent, I hope I'm not too late."

The secretary looked very confused for a moment, clearly not recalling such a meeting being scheduled. "An appointment, you say? I was not aware-" The woman cut herself off as she looked down at the calender before her. "… How strange…" The woman said, quickly flipping to another book but finding the previously unmentioned appointment in that one as well. The woman checked nearly four different books before Sirius gave a slight reminding cough.

"I would hate to keep the Madam waiting," Sirius pointedly reminded, glancing at a fancy watch he was wearing.

"Of course," the secretary agreed, shaking her head. "Just right through that door." Sirius gratefully thanked her and casually made his way to the door that had been pointed at. He took the few moments the secretary spent re-organizing her desk to cast silencing spells at the frame before he entered the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Shelby? I thought I said-" Madam bones stopped her sentence and waisted no time firing off a lightning fast stunner at Sirius who had barely managed to raise a shield to deflect it.

"I YIELD!" Sirius shouted at the woman, holding up his hands. "I yield!"

Madam Bones didn't take any chances and quickly flicked her wand to disarm Sirius before also sending another flick his way, causing thick ropes to bind him.

"When I find out who-" the woman began, fuming as she marched towards her door. Sirius quickly struggled enough to move the ropes that covered his mouth.

"Sirius Black!" he yelled, causing her to freeze with her hand on the door knob. "I'm Sirius Black."

The office was silent for a moment before Amelia opened her door.

"Shelby? Cancel all my other meetings for today."

"Madam?" Sirius heard the secretary ask. "And the Minister?"

"Tell him I'm busy and can't be bothered."

"… Yes Madam Bones." Amelia nodded and closed the door firmly, casing her own litany of spells on the door before turning and staring at Sirius who was still bound and unmoving on her floor. Suddenly, in a rapid series of swishes and flicks, Sirius found himself seated and still bound in front of the woman's desk.

"You have thirty minutes to convince me of your innocence," the woman began as she came to sit down behind her desk and in front of Sirius, her eye without a monocle narrowing. "Do that, and the rest of the day will be spent building up a case."

"And if it takes longer than a day?" Sirius asked neutrality.

"Then we will use the rest of the week. Then the rest of the month. But right now, you have twenty eight minutes."

"I thought it was thirty?!"

"… Twenty seven…"

"Alright, alright! But before all that, I need your word on something."

"… Mr. Black, you're hardly in the position-"

"It's about my godson, Harry Potter."

"… What is your request?"

"No matter how this goes, please don't let him get charged with anything because of what I've done. He was… he is desperate to connect to any family he has and… I don't want him to get pulled into this because I… I took advantage of that."

"…"

"Please," Sirius pleaded desperately in a low, strained voice.

"I will do what I can. Now, I believe you have fifty four minutes to convince me of your innocence."

"Fifty four? I thought-" Sirius stopped at the raised eyebrow of Madam Bones' un-monocled eye. "Right. Fifty four, then. Let's begin right at the start."

* * *

Daphne finally settled in for the evening, doffing her evening jacket and settling into her bed, quickly casting an underpowered heating charm on her sheets at finding they were a bit too cold for her liking. As she shifted into the mildly warmed sheets, she tried to calm down her thoughts, a tough thing to do with all that had happened recently. The week had been entirely too hectic and it was only Wednesday evening.

First, that miserable failure of a teacher, Umbridge, had decided to not only sabotage their chances of passing their Defence O.W.L.s, but have a go at all their other subjects by making herself some kind of overseer of Hogwarts' curriculum. The headline she had read on Monday had been enough to earn quite a few scoffs from others less practised at hiding their disapproval. What kind of dunderhead in the ministry thought the title 'High Inquisitor' would be a good idea?

So far, everything had _seemed_ above board, or, at least as above board as an obviously political move by the Ministry could seem. Innocent sounding questions here and there for a select student or two, a seemingly genuine question for a professor every once in a while, maybe a request for some kind of demonstration if one could be applicable. But anyone who knew anything about the current political situation between Dumbledore and Fudge knew what was really going on.

And as if that hadn't been enough, the very next day, another major headline made its way to the Prophet's front page.

'_Sirius Black Surrenders Himself For Re-Trial_'.

It was simply unthinkable to her. Certainly, she knew the Ministry was corrupt, Malfoy boasted of his father's influence too often for anyone in her house to doubt that, but to openly announce someone who was so publicly related to the Potter's death was going to possibly get a re-trial and have a chance to be cleared…

That, more than anything, was what had frightened her. That was what was making her week thus far a nightmare. And that was why, tonight, she would break the promise she had made to herself nearly five years ago, on the night that had been her last before coming to Hogwarts.

Daphne had finally settled down enough that she now knew her body was asleep, drifting in a pleasant inky darkness that had the faintest touches of warmth. She gently reached out, not with her hands, but with her mind, searching for a presence that was so very much like her own, but different in many, significant ways.

She knew that like her, Astoria would be troubled by the news of Sirius Black. No, troubled was too soft a word.

Terrified. That word was much more apt.

It had been so long since she had last done what she was currently trying to do, she almost missed the presence of her sister. It had changed a bit in the past five years, but tonight, it had the signs she had recognized long ago as belonging to someone who was currently trapped in a nightmare. She felt a pang of guilt for not having kept up her duties as her sister's guardian and quickly weaved herself into her sister's dream.

What she currently found herself in was a nightmare, and for her sister, it was her current reality.

When she was young, Daphne had discovered that her dreams often matched the dreams of her family, even to the point where she could describe their dream without them having to tell her a single thing about it. In the beginning, she couldn't control when or who's dream she would join, it would just happen sometimes without rhyme or reason. Her mother had chalked it up to accidental magic and left it at that.

But it didn't stop. Eventually, Daphne learned how to control her intrusions into other people's dreams and even control whether or not certain things happened by coming across an ancestor's diary in their family library who described having the same abilities. She hadn't understood everything at the time, being as young as she was, but she knew enough to figure out that her sister suffered from nightmares almost every night. And that she could help her.

For years, Daphne would come to her sister's rescue when her dreams would take a turn for the worse. Astoria eventually got better at handling what fuelled her nightmares, but every so often, Daphne would feel the need to ease her sister's burden.

Nearly three years of entering her sister's dreams and nightmares had taught Daphne many things about Astoria, and after the headline about Sirius Black, she knew just what her sister would be dreaming of tonight.

Their father.

"Tori?" Daphne called out. She was in their family home, but everything was oversized, making her feel small, and every step she took, the floorboards under her feet would creak and groan and the lighting was several shades too dark. Daphne quickly recognized this dream as being similar to one of Astoria's most common reoccurring nightmares and made haste towards where she knew her sister would be.

Astoria's room still had a closed door, which put her a little at ease, but she still quickly made her way into the room and towards her sister's closet.

"Tori?" Daphne asked gently and calmly.

"Daphne?" came her sister's reply, shrill and frightened. "Quick! Get in before he comes!" Daphne felt her emotions warble dangerously. It had been so long since she had been close to someone with such raw emotion in their voice that it almost instantly eroded the varnish she'd polished over herself.

"Hurry!" her sister repeated anxiously, opening the door just enough for Daphne to see her sister. Her self image was younger than she really was, perhaps only eight or nine.

"No, it's okay," Daphne said back, being mindful to keep her voice calm even though she could feel Astoria's influence trying to make her feel just as scared and anxious as she was.

That was one of the dangers of Dreamweaving, as she had come to call it. If the person who's dream you were joining had a stronger will, they could easily sweep you up in their own emotions.

"Please," Astoria pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "He's coming soon! He's coming back soon! Black made it out, so can he!"

Daphne felt the words her sister was saying resonate with her own fears, doubling the effect of her sister's already potent emotions. What if their father also managed to escape like Black? What if he also had sympathisers in the ministry, anxiously awaiting for a man with talents like his to aid-

"No," Daphne tried saying resolutely, attempting to reign in her own emotions. "No, he can't hurt us any more."

"Please, sister!" Astoria desperately pleaded, openly crying now, tugging at Daphne's nightgown. "He'll… he'll get you too if you don't-"

"Well, well, well," a deranged voice said from Astoria's doorway. "Both my daughters in one convenient place. How thoughtful of you both."

Astoria froze in fear, her hands seizing on Daphne's sleeve and refusing to let go. Even Daphne felt a tingle of panic run down her spine at the hauntingly familiar sound of her father's voice. She'd nearly forgotten it in the nine years since she had actually last heard it, but it seemed Astoria remembered it perfectly. Despite the fear she now easily felt, Daphne rose up, only feeling her legs tremble slightly.

"You'll not hurt us," she said with as much conviction she could, finally meeting those cold, piercing blue eyes that haunted her every time she looked into a mirror. The eyes that she, and only she, had inherited from him, that cursed her and made her sister flinch with every look.

Astoria must've bought into Daphne's bravado as their father began to lose some of his arrogant smirk they both remembered so well. Her sister's confidence in her helped Daphne rally herself and once again establish a more firm control over the dream. She used her will to brighten the room and began to return furnishings to their original proportions.

"You can't hurt us," Daphne claimed, her voice now completely free of any doubt. Their father began to cower before her, and Astoria even managed to come out of the closet she'd been in, even though she remained firmly behind her sister.

Daphne weaved in her wand, finding Astoria easily allowing the object to come into existence.

"Be gone," Daphne commanded the man, "and never return."

To emphasise her point, Daphne fired curses at the man who had been their father, causing him to flee. Daphne chased the man out of the house, Astoria following a safe distance behind her sister. After she had driven the pathetic man away, Daphne turned to her sister again.

"He can't hurt you, Tori."

Daphne was nearly knocked off her feet when her sister tackled her with a wet and heavy hug.

"I know he can't," her sister said into her chest, "not while I have you."

Daphne hesitated, remembering the reason she had sworn not to do this again.

Intervening every once in a while wouldn't hurt her sister, but genuinely help. However, frequently saving her sister from her own nightmares would have the same effect as saving her from a real problem. It would make her overly reliant.

Daphne knew what she should say. Knew what she should do.

But…

It felt nice.

To be relied upon and trusted. To be hugged, to be liked. To be loved.

Her friendship with Tracey was still distant, and no one else in Slytherin would dare open themselves up like what her sister was doing right now. Even in the waking world, moments like this just weren't possible at Hogwarts.

"Yes," Daphne finally said, feeling her sister tighten her grip around her as she returned the hug. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

* * *

Luna quite liked Hogsmeade. Ottery St Catchpole was a wonderful place, after all, her father lived there, and her house was there, and the Weasleys, and even with Cedric Diggory gone, his parents were still there. But Hogsmeade had even more magical people living in it and none of them had to hide from Muggles.

Perhaps that would mean that magical creatures would be more inclined to inhabit the nearby environment?

She would have to investigate, but not today. Today, the first Hogsmeade weekend since Professor Dolores Umbridge was announced by the Daily Prophet as High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge, she had promised Ginevra that she would come to the Hog's Head for an important meeting. Strangely, she'd heard some of her fellow students whispering about the same meeting, even though she knew Ginervra had told her to keep it secret. Someone was clearly infested with-

"… Harry's going to teach us himself."

"He is?" Susan Bones asked Hermione Granger.

"Yes. Come to the Hog's Head this afternoon if you're interested. But either way, please keep quiet about it."

"Of course," Susan Bones quickly assured Hermione Granger. "Um, wait, Hermione?" the girl asked after Hermione Granger before she quickly walked off.

"Yes?"

"Could I bring someone else too? They're… a bit younger, but I think she would really benefit from it."

"Of course," Hermione Granger replied warmly. Luna had never gotten that kind of warm tone from Hermione Granger, or anyone at Hogwarts, before and was surprised to hear her use it. She was normally a very cold and snappy girl whenever she and Luna talked. "The more people we can help, the better." With that, the two girls departed.

Well, it was a little disappointing to learn that the information breech wasn't due to an infestation, but privacy charms were a bit easier to fix anyway. Skipping after Hermione Granger, Luna quickly caught up with her as she was making her way towards the Great Hall.

"Hermione Granger?" Luna called after the fifth year Gryffindor.

"Yes?" Hermione Granger called back in curiosity until her eyes fell upon Luna. "Oh. Luna." It was easy for Luna to see that the Gryffindor wasn't exactly pleased to be to speaking to her, so Luna decided to try and cut to the point. Of course, there was still the chance that this conversation could be overheard itself, so a little subterfuge would be necessary to throw off eavesdroppers. Luckily, Hermione Granger was a smart girl and Luna knew she would be able to interpret the true meaning easily.

"I was walking through the corridor just now and could've swore a Humderflinger shot away from just over there," Luna said as she pointed to the spot Hermione Granger had just had her conversation with Susan Bones. "I was concerned another one might be lurking around somewhere and thought I ought tell you that a good silencing charm should help keep him away for the rest of the day."

"A… a what now?"

"Humderflinger. They don't have eyes, you see, and have to rely on their keen hearing to get what they want."

"I don't… what?" Hermione Granger quickly looked around before she scowled a bit. "Luna, is a… Humderflinger? Is it another one of those animals in the Quibbler?"

"Issue number three hundred and-"

"I see," Hermione Granger quickly cut off. "In that case, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for your… creature." Without another word, the Gryffindor stalked off towards the Great Hall, leaving Luna a bit less skippy then before.

Breakfast with her house was just like it normally was, which meant no one bothered her as she quietly ate her food. It was a bit different from home, where she would frequently have lively discussions and debates with her father about where they might find a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack and other rare magical creatures, or what kind of business Fudge and his Ministry sycophants might be up to.

When Luna had first been sorted into Ravenclaw, she had hoped these academic debates would've continued, but her housemates were seriously lacking knowledge on all the important events the Quibbler reported on, so she had stopped trying to strike up conversations with them to keep them from feeling left out.

"… already made plans," Luna overheard Cho Chang say as she was trying to mind her business with buttering her waffle.

"Oh, that's a shame," Luna heard a boy with Hufflepuff robes say in a disheartened voice. "Perhaps next week?"

"We'll see," Cho Chang replied, clearly thinking next week wouldn't work out either. As the Hufflepuff walked off, one of the girls beside Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, spoke up.

"You should've gone with him, he's cute and I heard he treats girls nice."

"But Harry's meeting," Cho Chang pointedly reminded, at least having the common sense to look around for a Humderflinger. Marietta Edgecombe didn't seem pleased about being reminded of either Harry or the meeting he had apparently scheduled later today.

It seemed the meeting Luna had been invited to was quite large, and that thought got her stomach all bothered, as if the Ministry had successfully placed one of their eavesdropping Doxies there. Her next swallow of waffle was a bit larger than absolutely necessary to try and teach the menacing creature a lesson.

The ride to Hogsmeade was quite enjoyable, if a little lonely. The Thestral was good company though. She wondered if Harry Potter still had doubts about the creatures, he had seemed particularly troubled by suddenly being able to see the creatures after having spent all last year not seeing them. But the revelation that he could now see them had helped Luna solidify her choice to fully support and believe Harry Potter.

As Luna began to walk towards Hog's Head, she heard some cruel laughs down an alley nearby. Cautiously, she peered around a building and saw Draco Malfoy flanked by Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe all pointing their wands at something on the ground. Luna felt her curiosity rise at what they were doing, but also felt a tingle down her back that told her not to be seen by the boys. Instead, she continued on towards the Hog's Head.

Luna was surprised by the large group that was in Hog's Head when she arrived. Students from every house except Slytherin and nearly every year were inside the bar, and if the twitching eyebrow of their barman was any indication, this was more people he'd had to deal with in quite a while.

Once everyone had gotten a drink, they began to settle down around Harry Potter and his friends.

"Right then, is that everyone?" Harry Potter asked. Luna could tell that even though his voice was steady, Harry Potter wasn't at all comfortable talking in front of them all yet. When he received general murmurs of assent, he pulled out his wand and cast up towards the ceiling, murmuring under his breath as a clear dome briefly shown over them before disappearing.

"What was that?" A curious sixth year Luna couldn't see very well asked.

"A privacy charm," Harry Potter answered easily, quickly causing people to murmur in surprise and doubt. Luna, however, was glad that somebody took the threat of Humderflinger's seriously.

"Now," Harry Potter began again, his easy confidence of answering what impressive charm he'd just used gone and once again replaced by his forced steadiness, "who here is satisfied with the instruction that Umbridge is giving in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

He was met with silence as nobody raised either their hand or voice.

"Right. Well, neither am I. In fact, with few exceptions, I've not been satisfied with any of the instruction I've received in Defence for the past five years I've been at Hogwarts." Murmurs of assent once again were heard as a little more confidence began to make its way into Harry Potter's stance and voice.

"Whether the Ministry acknowledges it or not, there are threats out there that will hurt and… and kill you if you're not prepared," Harry Potter said, his momentum momentarily broken.

"What, like You-Know-Who?" a Hufflepuff near the front asked confrontationally, causing the group of people to break out of the trance they'd fallen into.

"Well, Dumbledore believes that-" Hermione Granger began, coming to her friends aid.

"Dumbledore believes he's back because _he_ believes he's back," the blonde Hufflepuff nodded at Harry Potter with an angry squint.

"Who do you think you are questioning Albus Dumbledore's judgement?" Ernest Macmillan asked affronted, going as far as standing up in outrage. The Hufflepuff who'd spoken out looked a little taken aback, but rose to stand as well.

"Zacharias Smith," the boy said defiantly, "and I think we all got the right to know-"

"Right to know?" Harry Potter suddenly cut in, a dark look on his face that caused everyone to suddenly take a breath. "A right to know… what, exactly, Zacharias? How a boy named Cedric Diggory was killed by a wizard you've been told is back but you refuse to believe?"

There was silence in the room as everyone looked at Harry Potter, waiting for what would come next.

"I'm not about to tell anyone here about how a brave man named Cedric Diggory fell to a vile man who calls himself Lord Voldemort."

Everyone in the room had some reaction to the name, except for Harry Potter who continued to look unflinchingly into the eyes of Zacharias Smith.

"So, if that is why you're here, I suggest you clear out." Harry Potter held his stare with Zacharias Smith until the boy finally made up his mind to sit down. Ernest Macmillan sat down as well, but not before sending a final weathering glare towards the arrogant Hufflepuff boy.

"… So," Hermione Granger began, her voice very high pitched as she tried to break the tense atmosphere. Harry Potter allowed Hermione Granger to continue with the meeting, working with everyone gathered to get some times when they might all be able to meet up. After assuring everyone she wouldn't interfere with Quidditch, they decided to have her message them the meeting time and place of their first meeting. Before they all left, Hermione Granger pulled out a piece of parchment.

"We've all seen just what kind of woman Umbridge is," she began putting the paper down on a table. "If you sign this, you're agreeing to keeping quiet about this group. That you'll not tell Umbridge, or anyone else, what we're up to." Some people gathered were more hesitant to sign the parchment than others, especially Zacharias Smith, but in the end, and through some veiled threats from the Weasley twins, everyone signed. Harry dispelled his privacy charm and everyone began to leave.

"WHAT?" Luna heard Ronald Weasley shout after a few moments of people leaving. She'd stuck around to finish her drink and was now being treated to a very surprised red head looking at Hermione Granger incredulously.

"What do you mean Ginny's been going out with Michael Corner?!"

Luna was hardly surprised by that news and was curious why Ronald Weasley was, but decided not to eavesdrop and left Hog's Head. However, before she made it back to where the carriages would take students back to Hogwarts, she stopped when she spotted a girl kneeling in an alleyway, the same one Draco Malfoy and his friends had been in earlier.

"Are you alright?" Luna asked the girl, walking down the alley a little ways. The girl quickly turned around, showing Luna that they had Slytherin accented robes and a slightly pudgy face. However, the girl remained crouched and didn't move more than to look over at Luna before glancing down at whatever was in front of her.

"I don't know how to help it," the girl said as Luna came up beside her, looking down at the ground and seeing a wounded rabbit, its leg twisted in a violent manner and a few bloody cuts staining its brown fur. Before Luna could ask what had happened or who the Slytherin girl was, another voice came down the alleyway.

"Luna?"

* * *

Harry couldn't handle Ron and Hermione's arguing any more. How the two of them could flip from sharing a close moment in the library to being at each others throats made him more confused than he wanted and so he decided to sneak away while they began to argue over who was good enough for Ginny. It wasn't like that was any of Harry's business anyway.

He was about to head back to the castle and call it a day when he noticed a long tress of hair down an alleyway on his way towards the carriages that made him stop.

"Luna?" He called out, sure that the brightly coloured hair was that of the fourth year Ravenclaw. She was standing beside some other girl with shorter brown hair that faintly reminded Harry of someone he'd seen around before.

"Harry Potter," Luna said, an odd look on her face. Normally the girl was a bright presence, but currently, her face was marred by a troubled look that just faintly looked relieved by his presence. The girl beside her though, looked like Harry's sudden appearance made her want to run. And after a moment, he realized why.

"Millicent Bulstrode, right?" Harry asked hesitantly as he walked towards the two. Millicent gave a single nod in reply before turning to look back down at whatever was in front of her. As Harry came up alongside the two, he realized why the two girls had looked so… troubled.

"Who did this?" Harry asked as he knelt down and began to reach towards the rabbit.

"No!" Millicent warned. Harry pulled his hand back in surprise and looked up at Millicent who reddened a bit but spoke after a moment.

"Malfoy put a curse on it," she said quietly, as if what she was saying was something she wasn't supposed to. "You can't touch it without getting the same injuries."

Harry looked down at the rabbit again, his heart clenching at the pathetic sight.

… _The reasoning was if you can know and recognize your own magic, it'll be easier to recognize magic that isn't yours. Recognizing individual people's magic is very useful in curse removal, which was what the course had focused on._

"I'm… going to try something," Harry told the two girls, pulling out his wand.

"But-" Millicent began, but stopped when Luna put a comforting hand on the girls shoulder.

"I believe in Harry Potter, and so should you."

The simple statement held Millicent up for a moment, the two girls just looking into each other's eyes for a moment before Millicent nodded.

"Okay," she said, sliding back from the rabbit a little to give Harry some room. Bolstered by the faith the two girls had readily and willing put in him, Harry closed his eyes and began to reach out with his magic like the book he'd borrowed from Mr. Greengrass had taught him.

He had done this a few times before, but each time, he'd gotten confusing results. Back in Diagon Alley, at Grimmauld Place, at Hogwarts, every time he tried he could never get the results he was supposed to. Even as he began now, he was getting the same jumbled mess he'd gotten every time before. But, just as he was about to give up, he felt something… malignant.

Every time Harry had reached out before, he'd felt a confusing jumble of emotions and sensations, ranging from a tickle, to a tingle, all the way to a sharp pain. But right now, as he focused on the wrong feeling he'd just briefly felt, the feeling of dread and wrongness increased until he had to physically repress a shudder. This was what the book had been mentioning when it talked about finding a specific piece of magic, and Harry suddenly realized why he'd not been able to do it before. Every place he had tried had been surrounded by background magic, and only now that he was focusing on one particular thing, could he pick up anything significant.

Now that he had found the curse like the book had told him to, he began focusing on the polar opposite sensations and feelings, channelling those thoughts through his wand. With his eyes still closed, his focus wavered slightly when he heard Millicent let out a gasp, but he refocused quickly and after a few moments, he could no longer sense the horrible wrongness around the rabbit.

Gently, he reached out to the animal and brushed his hand along its head, causing its ears to twitch.

"You did it," Millicent said needlessly, a sense of disbelief in her voice. Harry wasn't sure what to say without sounding full of himself and was glad when Luna spoke instead.

"I know a couple of healing spells for animals."

She crouched down with Harry and Millicent and began to cast at the rabbit using spells Harry vaguely recognized from some of the books he'd read at the apothecary. As soon as she finished, the rabbit bolted from their group, only sparing a backwards glance once it was at the exit of the alley before bounding off towards the Forbidden Forrest at the edge of Hogsmeade.

"You helped me," Millicent finally said. Harry and Luna both turned back towards the heavyset Slytherin. Harry felt as if he'd helped the rabbit more than he'd helped out Millicent, but kept silent. "Why?" the girl finally asked.

"Because…" Harry began, unsure what to say. Why had he helped out? Millicent had said he would've gotten the same injuries as the rabbit had he not be able to pull off what he just did, and he wasn't even sure how he'd even done it.

"Because that's just what you're supposed to do," Harry finally finished lamely. "You help out people when you can." Millicent was quiet a few more moments.

"I can't do that," Millicent finally said softly as she turned away from them.

"She's got a very bad case of Nargles," Harry heard Luna mumble as the Slytherin walked away.

**AN**: And there you have it, chapter 15, another one of those 'split-perspective' chapters. Some more background information about the Greengrass' for you as well. In case you've not picked up on it, I've radically changed some of the 'standards' when it comes to their family, along with some other things here and there. So, if you were wondering about the conspicuous lack of Daphne's father, there you have it. I hope you all enjoyed, and I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


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